


Bridge on the River Thames

by Patience_Please



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25538350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patience_Please/pseuds/Patience_Please
Summary: Modern AU. Here's what you should know. Delia is a nurse, Patsy is a mysterious graduate student in Greenwich. Christopher is a gay bartender and Trixie is, well, still Trixie.
Relationships: Delia Busby/Patsy Mount
Comments: 26
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the start of a little fun I was having writing on vacation. I may have the discipline to keep it going, we'll see.

The coffee shop door was heavier than Patsy expected it to be and so she had to give it a second tug with a bit more force. It swung wide open, and Patsy walked in casually, looking nonchalant as if she had meant to pull it that hard. This was one of the few places that made Patsy uncomfortable, even though she seemed to fit in perfectly with the regulars. It was a hipster coffee shop, and it seemed like in these sorts of places everyone operated by a set of unwritten rules. The tall redhead straightened the collar of her button-up. Per usual, Pasty wore a plain white 100% cotton shirt accompanied with skinny dress slacks (today they were army green tartan) and black leather wing-tips. “Her librarian uniform”, as her brother used to refer to it. But that was Patsy, in more ways than one, quality, elegant, and minimal. The ginger-haired woman looked up to the menu, written in chalk against the exposed brick wall. Patsy was known for her wide range of knowledge, but coffee, she knew coffee inside and out, and she knew how to play this game. So while the redhead could do without the pretentious millennials and their Macbook Air’s, she could at least put them to shame with her ordering.

“Could I get your Dark Peru through the V60, please? With half and half if you’ve any.”

“Most certainly,” replied the barista through his handlebar mustache.

Pasty laid down the money and made her way to the barista bar.  _ Mr. Mustache is letting the coffee bloom for far too long _ , she thought to herself.  _ The grounds will be under-extracted _ .. But of course, she wouldn’t dream of saying anything. She was never one to critique when uninvited.

Having a place to go on the mornings that Patsy didn’t have class helped her to get up on time and to get a move on her work. Plus, watching the dark liquid drip from the Hario V60 in front of her made editing her report on the importance of public record-keeping a much more enjoyable experience. Patsy moved through her morning’s work much more quickly than she expected, and by the time the dregs of her coffee were stone cold, she had finished. She pushed the pitcher of cream and the mug toward the inside of the bar then slipped her laptop into its canvas bag, thanking Mr. Mustache before pushing on the door. The air was unusually warm for October so Patsy crossed the street and started toward Greenwich park. She found a sunny spot on the bank, and before sitting, she took off her dress shirt and smoothed the vest underneath. She folded the shirt neatly and slipped it in her bag then lied out on the grass to watch the river, thinking about how nice it would be to have her kayak gliding through the water on this pretty fall day. After the sun had warmed her neck (sore from typing all morning) she stretched out her arms and reached over to her bag, pulling a Dunhill pipe from the front pocket. She packed it, pulled out a lighter, and lit the tobacco, running her finger over the engraved initials E.M. on the bowl. The sound of a paddle in the water pulled Patsy’s attention from the pipe to the river.

The first thing Patsy noticed were the woman’s legs, golden and muscular, balancing perfectly on the paddleboard coming around the bend. Next, it was her hair, a rich brunette, and hanging well below the shoulders. Patsy pushed her Wayfarers down her nose to properly take in the sight. She knew that she wouldn’t be seeing a beauty like this for a while yet. The moment could never last long enough. As she watched intently, the woman began to turn toward the bank in front of Patsy and paddled long, skillful strides toward it. Patsy’s breath caught in her throat. Each stroke of the paddle revealed the taut muscles in the woman’s arms.  _ Deep breathes, _ Patsy said to herself.  _ Remember to breathe, you fool _ . By the time the paddleboarder had approached the steep bank, the rider was looking rather quizzical. The scrunch of her sunkissed forehead made Patsy’s heartbeat embarrassingly hard. What on earth was wrong with her? She usually prided herself on her own ability never to lose her wits over a pretty face and a nice body. When she snapped back into reality the brunette was locking eyes with her, looking from her to the steep bank, and back up to her.  _ Crap _ , thought Patsy,  _ say something _ .

“Can I give you a hand there?” Patsy called out as she pulled off her glasses.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to accept,” the brunette laughed. “I think I picked the wrong place to get off!”

_ I beg to differ _ , Patsy thought as she stood, trying not to look too eager.

I wasn’t until the tall redhead was approaching her that the brunette got a good look at her striking cheekbones and fish hook smile.

_ Maybe I did pick the right place, _ she thought.

Patsy stood on the edge of the bank and held out a hand that the brunette took and lept toward the grass. If she weren’t looking into those damn piercing blue eyes then maybe her foot would’ve landed steadily. But instead, it slipped down the muddy slope, and if it weren’t for the other woman’s arm pulling in around her waist she would’ve ended up back in the water. She landed with an “oof” on top of the young redhead.

“Oh cripes, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Patsy blushed, trying to ignore the parts of the woman’s body pushing against her, “I’m Patsy Mount”.

“Delia Busby. Can’t say I’ve ever met anyone like this Ms. Mount.”

Patsy looked over Delia’s shoulder, “Let me help you grab your board”.

“Right, yeah”, Delia pushed herself up, trying to straddle Patsy’s waist for as briefly as possible. The two women grabbed the ends of the board and walked it up the grass. Patsy stopped and slung her bag over her shoulder, “Can I help you get this to where you’re going?”she nodded towards the board.

“Sure,” Delia replied, “My car’s just up here, I’ve got a rack on the top.”

Patsy stood by the car as Delia tied the board in place, she fiddled with the strap and looked around aimlessly.

“Thanks for all your help Ms. Mount”, Delia said as she looked down, playing with her keys.

“It was a pleasure, Delia,” Patsy smirked. She lingered a little longer than she normally would, but after a few seconds of silence she turned away.

“Hey,” Delia spoke up a little louder than she intended. “Would you like a ride back to your place?”

Patsy had never accepted a ride home before. Was that too easy? She wasn’t quite ready to give away that much to this woman, gorgeous river queen or not.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Alright,” Delia gave a disappointed smile and pulled on the handle of her little Toyota.

Patsy noticed the disappointment in Delia and got a fluster in her chest.

“But, if you could use a hand getting this thing into your place,” she patted the board, “I’ll take a ride as far as there.”

“Of course, yeah,” Delia’s smile widened. She practically lept over the hood to beat Patsy to the passenger-side door and pulled it open. “After you Ms. Mount.”

The instant Delia turned the ignition, the speakers began blasting the last song she had been playing on Spotify.

_ Trump tight all day, every day _

_ You're blowing my mind, maybe in time _

_ Baby, I can get you in my ride... _

She scrambled to turn it down.

“Cripes, sorry, ha-ha, didn’t realize how loud that was.” She looked out of the corner of her eye to Pasty, who didn’t in the least bit seem phased. Gosh, this girl was so collected. It made Delia’s palms sweat.

“You didn’t strike me as a Blackstreet fan,” Patsy smiled cooly.

“What can I say, I like a good 90’s club hit. Takes me back to childhood. I’m sure you’re above all that guilty pleasure music though,” Delia nodded her head.

“Not particularly, I don’t really believe in guilty pleasure music. All music has its place and I enjoy it all.”

Delia grinned as she turned the dial back up.

Patsy quickly added, “Right well there’s some music I enjoy more than other types.” She reached to turn the dial back down. Her hand brushed against Delia’s for an instant and she hoped the woman didn’t hear her inhale sharply. My gosh, she thought to herself, get a hold of yourself. She had no idea how old this brunette was but she knew it was older than her, and she needed to act more mature than this if she was going to get any further than a ride home with Delia.

“All right then what kind of music does Patsy Mount enjoy?” The redhead blinked back into reality.

“Umm, well I like rock, folk, blues...uh... jazz, bluegrass, hip-hop, classical.”

“So not a wide range then,” Delia nodded as she looked into the rearview.

“I wouldn’t say so, no.”

The two kept on with the conversation about the concerts they’d been to and the artists they admired, and soon Delia was pulling into a parking spot.

“Well this is it, my humble abode,” Delia declared.

Patsy’s eyes went wide. “Wow, this is a lovely house, Delia!” She turned in her seat to look at all the houses around. “And this is a lovely street!”

“Well, I share it with my housemate, but it’s nice to have a place outside of the busy area.”

“I’ll give you eight pounds for it, cash,” Patsy laughed as she reached for the door handle.

“Ooh. Wait there!” Delia opened the door and jumped out, practically jumping over the hood to get to the passenger side. She opened the door and held out her hand for Patsy to take. “Out you are Ms. Mount!”

“Quite the gentleman,” Patsy remarked in her clipped posh accent.

“Quite,” Delia said with a pleased smile.

Delia fumbled around for her keys and opened the door to the landing. “Sorry if there’s a bit of a mess,” she said, walking backwards while carrying the paddleboard. “We can take this through to the garden and put it in the shed.”

As the two were passing through the kitchen Patsy noticed a pair of striking legs spread out on the table. They belonged to a very elegant blonde with her hair pinned up in a bun.

“This is my housemate Trixie,” Delia said, strained as she tried to maneuver around the blonde’s pulled-out chair. “Her spatial awareness is somewhat lacking.”

“I’m a bit caught up here, sweetie,” said Trixie, “trying to touch up my lacquer”. She flicked up her eyes to Delia, but when she caught sight of their guest’s toned arms effortlessly lifting the paddleboard, she straightened up. Patsy followed the woman’s eyes and remembered that she was still in just a vest.

“Well hello there. It seems Delia had a rather successful trip to the park,” the blonde beamed.

“Patsy Mount. Nice to meet you, Trixie.” Patsy passed over the cheeky comment. “I was just giving Delia a hand with her board here.”

“I see,” Trixie raised her eyebrows.

Delia scoffed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d brought a woman to their house, and she knew Trixie would be ever-so eager to jump all over her about the attractive young redhead.

Patsy and Delia made their way to the garden shed.

“Just hang it up on these hooks here,” Delia instructed. Patsy barely had to lift the board to set in its hook which was leveled with her chest. Delia, however, had to lift well above her shoulders to reach the hook, but Patsy awed at how swiftly she seemed to move. She could see the toned muscles of her stomach flex as the woman’s shirt lifted up slightly. Patsy inhaled, it was getting a little hot in this shed. Delia wiped her hands against her shirt then put them to her hips. “Right, well that’s it.” She led Patsy back into the kitchen, where Trixie had stood up and was now lurking by the counter. She perked up when the two walked through the door.

“Tea is in order I think. What would you like Patsy?”

“Umm…” Patsy began.

“Tea?” Delia’s eyes went wide behind Patsy’s back as she questioned her forward-thinking best-friend.

“Of course, well you can’t just let such a wonderful lady assist you with that ghastly flotation device without offering her tea.”

“Right...yeah,” Delia stuttered. “Well only if you’d like some...if you don’t have anywhere to be.” She looked sheepishly up to Patsy.

“I’d be delighted,” Patsy nodded assuringly.

“Darjeeling for this one I think!” Trixie said, clapping the air.

The tea wasn’t even cool enough to drink before Trixie began drilling Patsy for details about her life.

“So do you live in London then?”

“I do, Greenwich.” Patsy wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “I live in a flat near the university at the moment. I’m finishing up a degree.”

“Ooo lovely,” Trixie smirked as she looked over to Delia, who was blushing and trying to avoid eye contact. This was definitely a young one. Delia prayed that this was a second, or perhaps third degree for the intellectual-looking woman.

“So what’s the program...for the degree?” Delia tried to change the subject.

“Well, it’s Master’s in History, focusing on archives and public record-keeping. Not very interesting I’m afraid,” Patsy smiled, “ but I enjoy it.”

“No, that sounds really interesting. I think history is fascinating,” Delia interjected. She really did love history, in fact, she spent many a Saturday night curled up with a historical podcast and her cat Todd (much to Trixie’s horror).

“How did the two of you meet?” Patsy asked Trixie with genuine interest, and to shift the conversation away from herself.

“Well,” Trixie started, “We met in a convent.”

Patsy raised her eyebrows and looked to Delia.

“It’s not what you think,” Delia assured, “Trixie just likes to start it like that.”

“Never gets old,” Trixie laughed. “We got our nursing certification in a charity clinic together and stayed in a convent. Living with a group of nuns for two years will bond a pair of girls for life.” The blonde flashed a cheeky smile to Delia.

Delia continued, “Now we work together in St. Thomas pre- and post-op. Defending each other from an ocean of advancements from barely-conscious old men.”

“More than that I’d say,” Trixie added, “Of course all the sensible ladies are after Delia. And she helps me keep an eye out for a handsome millionaire patient looking for a decorative blonde on his arm!”

Delia put a hand to her cheek to guard the growing blush. Trixie was notorious for dropping obvious hints that Delia was gay to any prospective women, but that one had been a bit of a stretch even for the blonde. Patsy gave a grin and sipped her tea, not looking up.

“So you met Delia at the park? Do you paddleboard as well, or do you just enjoy the view?” Delia dug her nails into Trixie’s thigh underneath the table, but the blonde sustained her unassuming smile.

Patsy obviously picked up on the cheek but breezed past it, “I do kayak, but my boat is at my parent’s house in Cambridge, so I suppose I go now to enjoy...well the view I suppose.” She glanced over to Delia then back to her tea.

A few painful seconds of silence passed. Trixie looked back and forth between the two women, rolling her eyes when neither would continue the conversation.

“So,” Trixie exhaled, “Have you thought about bringing your kayak to London? I know Delia would enjoy a buddy to have a paddle with.”

“I’ve actually been wanting to bring it,” the redhead admitted, “but I don’t have any way of getting it here, really. And there’s not much room in my flat for it either.”

Trixie waited for Delia to speak up. Goodness, this was going to be an uphill battle.

“You know,” Trixie acted as if the idea had just come to her, “Delia puts that horrid board on her tiny car all the time. I’m sure she’d relish an opportunity to get out of the city and take you up to get it!”

“Oh gosh I couldn’t ask her to do that,” Patsy politely responded.

“Well no, I’d love a chance for a road-trip,” Delia argued, taking a signal from Trixie. “It could give me a chance to play more of my classic tunes for you!” Why on earth was she agreeing to this so quickly? She had just met this woman. And had she really just used the words classic tunes?

“Perhaps, then,” Patsy lowered her eyes and smiled, “sometime”.

Never one to out-stay her welcome, Patsy piped up. “Well, I best be going,” she stood from the table and put her bag back on her arm. “Trixie, the tea was absolutely wonderful. Thank you, and it was a pleasure to meet you.”

The blonde blushed and offered her hand, “Oh sweetie, the pleasure’s all mine.”

Delia rolled her eyes. The straightest woman in London and the posh redhead had managed to fluster even her. “See our lovely guest out will you Delia?” Trixie said with her eyes still glued to Patsy.

Patsy followed Delia through the living room. It was well decorated, she thought. Sort of mid-century modern meets reclaimed vintage. She could already tell which items were Delia’s taste and which were Trixie’s. The distressed wood bookcase was most likely Delia’s, and the purple suede ottoman had to be Trixie’s. There were a few pairs of scrubs and half-full cups strewn about, but other than that the place was very well kept. Delia reached for the door.

“You were my hero today Patsy,” Delia knew how cheesy that sounded, “And truly, anytime you want to get your kayak I’m more than happy to.”

“That’s kind,” Patsy smirked, “I may just take you up on it sometime.”

As the younger woman sauntered down the front steps, Delia realized she hadn’t yet seen the back of her. Perfect posture and slacks that hugged her backside just enough, Delia liked the view. She found herself almost yelling at the woman.

“My number!”

Patsy turned around, her soft ginger hair swaying from one shoulder to the other. “Pardon?”

Delia hopped down the steps and jogged over to where the other woman was standing.

“I forgot. Here’s my number...for the kayak…” Delia held out a tea napkin with her number scrawled on it. Patsy reached out to take it, and the contact nearly made Delia shiver.

“Of course,” Patsy smiled. “Thank you.”


	2. chapter 2

Delia nodded breathlessly and turned back toward the house. When she got back into the sitting room she closed the front door and proceeded to bang her forehead against it, letting out a huge sigh. She turned back toward the kitchen to see Trixie standing in the entryway, hands on her hips and an annoyingly large grin on her face.

“DON’T,” Delia demanded as she walked past the blonde. She started gathering the teacups, but her hands shook so much the tea only sloshed onto the table. Trixie stood watching. 

“I didn’t know you fancied smoking-hot posh university girls, you minx!” Trixie teased. 

“I don’t,” Delia insisted, pouring the tea into the sink. “There’s no way that one is gay.”

“Perhaps not,” Trixie held a painted nail to her cheek, “But what about those arms? I thought you lot prided yourselves on arms like that?”

Delia clearly wasn’t listening. “And she can’t be  _ that  _ young. She’s finishing a Master’s degree, so that’s what? Twenty-four, twenty-five?” 

“Are you forgetting that you’re thirty Delia? You can  _ hardly _ keep up with pub crawls anymore sweetie.” 

“She doesn’t seem like the type of girl to pub crawl anyways,” Delia looked out the window above the sink. 

“Oh sweetie,” Trixie sighed, walking up the stairs, “You’re coming down with it. Bad!”

* * *

Delia was halfway through a twelve-hour night shift before she finally had an opportunity to sit in the breakroom with some lukewarm tea. It had been a week since she’d met Pasty, and no word since. The nurse chastised herself daily for expecting anything back, the posh student probably thought she was some creepy old outdoorswoman anyway. 

“Still glued to your phone then?” Trixie laughed as she came in the room, scooping her hair into an updo. “Any word from Emma Watson yet?” 

“Haha,” Delia said straight-faced. “It’s not that I expect anything.” Delia unlocked her phone, and her heart started to beat faster when she saw a little red one next to her message app. She pulled it up. 

**Hello Delia, this is Patsy Mount. I was checking in to see if you were available tomorrow? I’d like to call you if that’s alright.**

Trixie leant over Delia’s shoulder to investigate why her friend had gone quiet. 

“Texting to ask if she can call you? She really is a ginger gentleman!” Trixie remarked. 

Delia tried to force away her childish smile, “It’s probably about the kayak,” she shrugged. 

**Hey Patsy! I’ll be available and you’re more than welcome to call!**

Trixie turned around in the doorway as she left. “That was sent thirty-minutes ago. Wonder what she’s doing up at this time of night?” The blonde winked as she turned to leave. 

“Thanks for that thought Trixie,” Delia called after her. 

Walking out of the breakroom, Delia spotted a little head peering at her from a pre-op room down the hall.

“Douglas?” she called. “What are you doing up?”

“I had a bad dream,” he whispered loudly. “Can you come in here with me?”

Delia looked both ways down the hall, no sign of the head nurse. Phyllis was a stickler for not giving into the pediatric patients at night. ‘That’s the job of a parent only’ she’d say. 

“Alright, for a minute,” she conceded. 

The curly haired boy rubbed at his nose, jostling the feeding tube that ran out from it.

“Careful there soldier,” the nurse warned. “I don’t want to be sticking that back down you tonight.” She made a gagging face and the boy dissolved into giggles. 

“Come here soldier,” Delia whispered as she sat down on the rocking chair next to Douglas’s bed. The boy crawled onto her lap and laid his head against her chest. The nurse ran her fingers through his soft curls as she rocked and hummed the only parts she remembered of the Welsh lullaby her mam used to sing to her. It wasn’t long until she felt the boy’s breathing steady and she knew he was asleep. She held him tight as she stood from the chair and laid him back in the bed. “Goodnight soldier,” she whispered as she pulled the sheets up and tucked the boy in.

Another nurse was walking past at the same time Delia quietly shut the door to the room. 

“Douglas again? Poor chap. Is this his fourth operation?”

“Third,” Delia sighed, “but the fourth won’t be long coming.” the other nurse moved her face into a sympathetic frown. “Well, I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on. Wouldn’t want Phyllis to catch me with it half done!” And she was off down the hall. “Night, Val,” Delia whispered.

Delia got home at 6am and barely kicked off her shoes before collapsing in bed. 

She felt like she hadn’t been asleep five minutes before she woke up to the sound of ringing. She flipped over her phone. Her vision was foggy but she could make out the time, 10am, and the name, Patsy Mount. She bolted up and hit the green button. 

“Hello?”

“Hello? Delia?”

“Patsy, how are you?”

“Oh gosh Delia have I woken you up?”

Delia giggled at the other woman’s concerned tone. 

“Oh no it’s not a problem Patsy. I’m on nights this week so my sleep schedule is nonexistent I’m afraid.”

“I see. Do you enjoy working nights, or do you prefer day shifts?” Patsy inquired.

Delia was amazed at how easily Patsy kept the conversation on her and how interested she could seem. 

“Umm, I actually enjoy night shifts. It’s oddly peaceful. I work with a lot of pediatric patients as well, and it’s nice to be able to comfort them or play around with them while their parents aren’t there to be worried.” 

“That’s lovely,” Patsy replied, and left it at that. 

There was a moment of silence, which would usually make Delia uncomfortable, but she enjoyed sitting here, just knowing that the redhead was on the other side of the line. 

“You must have been up late as well to have sent that text when you did.” Delia stopped, fearing she’d pried too far.

“Yes, well,” Patsy chuckled, “I’ve never been a great sleeper. Used to drive my parents mad…” She stopped there. 

“Well, Delia,” Patsy continued, “I suppose I should tell you why I’ve called.” 

Delia could feel her face grow hot. “Maybe you should, Miss Mount.” 

“I suppose this may be silly of me to ask, Delia, considering that you’re quite an established nurse and I am a lowly student…”

“Yes?” Delia interjected. 

“I’d like to take you to dinner, Delia.” Her posh accent rolled over the words. 

If the nurse had been standing, then her knees would have given out under her. 

“Would you?” she choked out. 

“Yes,” Patsy replied simply, “If you want me to, that is.”

Delia swallowed hard. “Yes, well I mean...I’d like you to take me to dinner, Patsy.”

“Fantastic. When are you free?”

“Umm, let me check.” Delia fumbled around her dresser for the hospital work calendar. “Here we go, let’s see. Ha! Friday. I’m free Friday, does that work?”

“That sounds perfect. May I pick you up at seven?” Patsy asked coolly. 

“Seven is perfect.” 

“Wonderful, I look forward to seeing you Delia. Now do finish catching up on your sleep!” she added. 

“I could say the same to you Miss Mount!” Delia replied. “See you Friday!”

Delia set down the phone. She’d definitely just sweated through her nightshirt, oof. She looked up to see Trixie standing at her bedroom door with the same annoying smile and two cups of coffee in her hands. Of course, the sound of Patsy’s name probably woke the blonde up from a dead sleep.

“Tell me everything,” she said with a serious stare. 

“Gay. Definitely gay,” the brunette nodded. 


	3. chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Date number one.

Thursday night found Trixie and Delia standing in front of Delia’s closet trying to find an outfit for the next day. Trixie sat on the bed with her feet up, drinking a gin and tonic while Delia held up dresses. 

“What about this one?” Delia asked, picking out an ice blue cocktail dress. 

“No, no no sweetie. There is no way I’m letting you wear ice blue to a supper date.” 

“Well that’s it then that aren’t any dresses left in my closet,” Delia shrugged. 

Trixie sighed audibly and set her drink on Delia’s nightstand, stood up, and walked out. 

“I’ll just go naked then,” Delia yelled towards the blonde’s back, “make this process a lot easier for everyone involved.” 

She walked over to the nightstand and took a swig of the gin and tonic, which reminded her that she despised gin. 

“Because I love you Delia,” Trixie called, walking back down the hallway, “and it’s been ages since you went out with a girl, let alone one this hot,” she came in the room. “I’m going to give you my go-to date dress on loan. But I expect it back by Saturday morning...and hopefully not before then!” She held it out and Delia rolled her eyes, taking it. 

It came to just above Delia’s ankles and was quite Bohemian, but still classy. It was faded blue with a faded pink pattern.

“Oh, sweetie, you look stunning!” Trixie exclaimed, walking into Delia’s room the next night. She pretended to fan away tears as the brunette twirled to show off the dress. 

“My little Delia, about to go down pints with the students of Greenwich! Has she really not told you where she’s taking you?” 

“I trust her...I think. It’s nice though, everybody overshares nowadays. I like a good bit of surprise!” Delia responded. 

“Has she texted you at all since Monday?” Trixie inquired.

“She actually hasn’t, no.” Delia realized.

“Oh gosh what if she doesn’t show,” Trixie gasped. 

“Thanks for that,” Delia breathed out. 

The doorbell rang. 

“Oooo” Trixie clapped, then grabbed Delia by the shoulders. “Wait no, you stay here. I’ll go answer it and let her in and then you’ll come down the stairs and oh my Lord it’ll be like a Bronte novel!”

Delia huffed as Trixie dashed out. Gosh it was getting hot. She felt nauseous, physically nauseous. 

“Come in Patsy! Have a seat, Delia will be down shortly!” Trixie practically yelled from downstairs. 

Subtle . Delia whispered. 

Patsy sat on the sofa in the sitting room with her long legs crossed; every few seconds she looked up to meet Trixie’s eyes burning holes in her soul. A few minutes passed and Trixie stood. 

“I’ll be right back,” she smiled and proceeded up the stairs. 

“Oh my lord Delia she looks gorgeous,” Trixie gushed as she shut the door to Delia’s room. “The tension’s been built now get down there.” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Delia uttered leaning over the bed. “Oh gosh she’s taking me to supper. I’m gonna be sick Trixie I can’t eat!” 

“Oh, sweetie,” Trixie waved the air, “you’ve just got a case of nerves, you'll be fine once you leave.” 

“No Trixie I can’t do this, I’ll have to cancel,” Delia persisted. Trixie was now dragging her by her arms out the door. The brunette pulled against her and shook her head. 

“Here we are!” Trixie called once she had dragged Delia to the top step. 

Patsy stood when she saw Delia at the top of the stairs. Delia gulped. 

Patsy was wearing an elegant blush wrap dress that came most of the way down her breathtakingly long legs. The tortoise shell buttons that went down the length of the dress matched the brown of the calfskin swing dance shoes that she was wearing. And her ginger hair was swept back into a soft updo. Delia was grateful she had let Trixie talk her into an updo as well.

“Good evening Delia,” the redhead smiled. 

“Good evening Patsy,” the older woman stalled at the top of the stairs before remembering herself. 

Trixie was about to burst with excitement, and she gave Delia a slight nudge to remind her to keep walking. 

“Take care of her!” Trixie called to Patsy once her best-friend had reached the bottom. “And don’t bring her home too soon!”

Delia blushed and rolled her eyes. Her date stepped forward and opened the door, motioning for her to go first. “After you Ms. Busby,” she said deftly. 

“I hope you don’t oppose taking the tube on a date,” Patsy said as the women walked along the pavement. 

“Of course not!” Delia smiled. “It gives us a little more time to talk.” 

Patsy eyes still forward, her hand hung delicately beside the ravishing curve of her waist. Delia imagined taking it in hers, interlocking her fingers with the other woman’s, placing a kiss on the soft hand...then up the arm. Her eyes snapped back forward when Patsy began to speak. 

“I’d like to take you to one of my favorite places if you’d like. It’s near the university.”

“Sounds perfect,” the older woman nodded and prayed that they weren’t actually going to down pints with the students of Greenwich. 

After a more pleasant tube ride than Delia could remember having, the two women walked a few more blocks until Patsy pointed out. 

“This is it here, The Cutty Sark. This building has been here since 1795,” the redhead informed her as she opened the door. It was funny, Delia thought, how instinctively the younger woman had opened every door for her. She remembered dating some boys back home in Wales that would barge past her to get the door on the off-chance they thought of it. 

Delia didn’t know what she had expected, but this place was lovely. It was dripping with class, but still comfortable and accessible. Come to think of it, this place reminded her a lot of Patsy. 

“Patsy!” a man from behind the bar called out when the women entered. He came out to greet them. “I’ve saved the usual table for you.” He bowed his head knowingly to Delia as he grabbed two menus. He leaned to Patsy as he led them back toward a large window. 

“Shopping in the women’s section instead of juniors now are we?” he whispered. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean Christopher,” she grinned. 

“Patsy this is beautiful!” Delia beamed as they were seated. “I’ve never had such a good view of the river!”

“Not even while you’re on it?” her date remarked.

“While  eating, Miss Mount,” Delia laughed. 

Christopher brought a bottle of pinot noir to the table before Delia had even glanced at the menu. “Come here often?” she joked to Patsy. 

“You could put it that way,” Christopher winked. 

Patsy pursed her lips at him. “Now Christopher, don’t go spreading stories.” The server raised his eyebrows and retreated. 

“I have a thing for ships you see,” Patsy explained after Christopher walked away. “Any kind, the maritime just fascinates me. This is a wonderful place to watch them, even if the service is less than exemplary.” She looked over to the bar where Christopher was making faces at her. 

Patsy ordered the roasted duck while Delia went for a prawn scampi, and after they had finished the two enjoyed the delicious wine while looking at the river. 

“So how long did you live in Wales?” Patsy asked as she poured another glass. 

“How did you know I lived in Wales?” the brunette questioned. 

“Delia, if you think for a minute that I haven’t been captivated by your Welsh lit since we met then you don’t know your own power,” the younger woman professed. 

“Well, it’s good to know I have that power!” Delia straightened up. “I left when I was twenty to come to nursing school. I was tired of Wales, I needed to be somewhere I could live out from under my mother’s watchful eye. But I don’t think she’ll ever get over the fact that I left the homestead,” Delia laughed. “Gosh, that was ten years ago now. It still feels like I’m new to the city.”

Pasty’s face went cold, and she tried to hide the shock by nodding and smiling. She was used to doing that, good at it even. But it was the Welsh voice that snapped her back into reality. 

“What about you?”

“Sorry?” Patsy looked up.

“What about you?” Delia repeated. “What brought you to Greenwich from Cambridge?”

“Oh,” Patsy looked down at her glass. “University. I came to Greenwich to get my B.A. and then continued on into the graduate program here.”

“I see,” Delia nodded. She had hoped that the redhead would give a little more information on exactly  when  and for  how long  she’d been in London to get at least a rough estimate of her age. Obviously Patsy did not want to give away too much, perhaps she should move to a different topic. 

“Do your parents still live in Cambridge?” Delia asked, meeting Patsy’s eyes. 

“Well no, I suppose,” the other woman’s face didn’t falter. “My mother died when I was young, and my father passed away last year, as did my brother Elijah.”

Yup. Delia thought to herself.  That was a great way to kill a date.

“Oh goodness Patsy I’m sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up,” she looked out the window, thinking she’d rather be in the middle of the Thames right now. 

“It’s alright Delia, really,” Patsy placed her hand ever so close to the brunettes. “I don’t mind talking about it. I know that I mentioned their house to you. It’s left to me, but of course I have no use of it at the moment and so I’m keeping it up for now,” she spoke softly and pleasantly. 

“By yourself?” Delia thought now was as good a time as any to ask.

“Mostly, but I have an aunt that stops in sometimes as well,” Patsy nodded. 

“Alright ladies,” Christopher swirled a tea towel as he approached the table. “I’m shutting this party down.” 

Delia looked down at her phone, it was already midnight. 

The bartender glanced at Patsy. “Will you be taking her home or may I?”

“Really Christopher,” Patsy scoffed over Delia’s laugh. “Don’t worry Miss Busby, you’ve got a little too much breast and not enough testosterone for Chris’s liking.”

“I can make it work,” Christopher joked in a low, husky voice. 

“We best leave before he tries,” Patsy warned Delia.

Christopher wiped off their table. “Have fuuunnn ladies,” he sang suggestively as they walked out. 

Patsy flipped him a bird behind her back as she opened the door for Delia.

“The Old Royal Naval College is nearby,” Patsy pointed out as they walked down the street. “That’s where the history department is.”

Delia watched Patsy’s finger as she pointed in the direction of the building. 

“So what pulled you into history? If you don’t mind my asking.”

Patsy nodded. “At first I chose it because it was the only subject I really enjoyed in school. I suppose I just wanted to read, write, and discuss all day. But when I started studying it I actually realized that history is just the execution of all subjects.” She spoke more passionately now, looking off into the distance. “Maths, science, literature, psychology, they’re all wrapped up, in their most interesting forms, in history. And it can be fun as well, because you can debate and be philosophical or theoretical to piece together a puzzle of what really happened in our past.”

Delia marveled at the young woman’s enthusiasm. Come to think of it, in the time she has spent with Patsy she hadn’t seen her this excited to talk about anything. Delia smiled at the new side of Patsy that was peeking through.

“So why nursing?” Patsy turned to Delia.

“Huh,” Delia laughed, “I wish I could say it was because I wanted to help people and my heart broke for the world and so on, but I really just wanted an adventure.” Delia couldn’t remember ever admitting that to anyone. “I knew I could travel anywhere and still have a job as a nurse.”

“The same goes for historians,” Patsy joked. 

By the time they arrived back at Delia’s house it was after one and the brunette had chill bumps from the cold. She glanced over at Patsy’s arms. Nothing.  Of course, she thought. They reached the porch and Patsy turned to her date. 

“Thank you for agreeing to come Patsy, I had a wonderful evening. Now get inside and warm up, you seem freezing, poor lamb.”

Delia’s arms were crossed in front of her and Patsy began running her hands up and down them softly to create friction. Delia shivered, she wasn’t sure if it was the wine or Patsy’s touch, but she had to step back to regain her balance. 

“May I call you again?” Patsy shifted.

“Of course,” Delia smiled. Why on earth did a woman like Patsy feel the need to ask?

The redhead broke a fish-hook smile and reached out her hand. Delia picked up on the movement and offered hers. Patsy took it, raised it up and placed a kiss on the back. The other woman looked away in a hopeless effort to keep her composure. 

“Goodnight Miss Mount,” Delia giggled.

“Goodnight Miss Busby,” Patsy returned. 

* * *

“Nooo,” Trixie yelled from her room hearing Delia climb the stairs. “Why did you let the sexy student bring you back here? Go back out there and bat your eyelashes until she gets the hint,” she continued, walking into Delia’s room. She stopped dead in her tracks when she caught a glimpse of her friend’s face. 

“Good lord sweetie you look as if you’ve seen the second coming... Oh no, you were sick on her weren’t you?” 

“What? No,” Delia sprawled out on the bed. “I actually don’t remember when the sick feeling went away,” she wondered out loud. 

“So then Patsy’s just not a ‘sex on the first date’ kind of girl? Disappointing…” the blonde tutted. 

“Well, if I’m following what the waiter at the restaurant was suggesting, then that is definitely not the case,” Delia raised her eyebrows. 

“Ooo that’s juicy,” Trixie said in a low voice. 

“You’re not hearing it tonight blondie, we have to be at work in the morning.” Delia pulled the dress over her head and handed it to Trixie. “Here’s your loan back.” 

* * *

Patsy made it back to her flat before 2am. She set her shoes next to the door and made her way to the kitchen, where she took her Chemex brewer down from the coffee bar and began grinding. After the coffee finished brewing, she poured it into a mug and made her way back to the living room. Her favorite area of the house was the wall closest to the stairs. Against it she kept her five piece stereo system, and the built in bookcase housed hundreds of vinyl records, CDs, and cassette tapes. She flipped through the records,  P, Q, R,  until she found the one. It was her usual post-date record. She slipped in on the turntable and lowered the needle.

Wake up, Maggie, I think I got something to say to you

It's late September and I really should be back at school

I know I keep you amused, but I feel I'm being used

Oh, Maggie, I couldn't have tried any more

Typically, her dates would spend this time talking about how they loved classic rock and that the scratches on vinyl were so much better than listening to Spotify. It was all about the  experience they would claim .  These were the same types of women that Patsy knew owned a light blue Crosley Cruiser and one  Elton John Greatest Hits  record. But Patsy would usually let this stage of the night drag on until she’d had enough. At that point, she would gently place her hand on the other woman’s leg and draw circles on her inner thigh. Without fail, her date would break the silence. ‘Why don’t you show me around?’

Seeing as there was no one else there to bother, Patsy walked over to her desk in the back corner of the room and took her pipe from its stand. She sat in the old leather desk chair, puffing on the pipe as the sound of her record echoed through the flat. 


	4. chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware of a flashback and original character in this chapter!

“I just want to know... I won’t make fun! Promise!” Trixie assured Delia at the nurse’s station the next morning. 

“No, I just don’t want to talk about it,” Delia chuckled as she leaned back in her chair. 

“Oh come on, how did the great Delia Busby stick her foot in it during her first date in ages?” Trixie added. 

The third nurse at the station joined the conversation. “Did you accidentally mention you’ve dated her ex?” she looked into the distance. “I’ve done that before...a few times actually,” she paused, “the lesbian dating pool could use some growing.”

“Of course she didn’t, Val,” Trixie chimed in, “that would imply that she’s actually dated enough women to strike one of this girl’s exes. Which, I understand, are good odds!” Trixie raised her eyebrows and Val pursed her lips into an ‘o’. 

“Why must we do this?” Delia said to no one.

“Alright, alright sweetie,” Trixie patted the brunette's arm. “So do you think you’ll go out with her again?” 

“Yeah, actually. I think...or I hope I will.”

“Are you gonna ask her?” Val questioned.

“I’m not sure,” Delia replied honestly, “I kinda feel like she’s going to be the one to ask me.” 

Trixie and Val smirked to one another and Delia rolled her eyes. “That’s enough, you two are making me unproductive!” She stood, “We’ve got patients, remember them?” 

* * *

_What do you think about it Patsy?_

That was what brought the redhead back to earth. She had come to the graduate lounge between lectures to eat her lunch and plan her next date with the river queen (which was how she now referred to Delia in her head). However, what she had found herself in was an uninvited discussion of the Chinese opium epidemic. Jenny Lee, another graduate student, was running her hand along the table (no doubt to show off her massive engagement ring) as she compared China’s dependence on British opium to the West’s current depending on Chinese products. The room sparked into conversation from the comparison. This sort of thing always made Patsy think that maybe she should be more vocal. In her mind, that comparison was so obvious that it didn’t need to be brought up. Perhaps not. But that would never be Patsy’s style anyways. No, she wasn’t going to offer a point unless it was asked of her. 

After her last lecture ended Patsy started back home. Her flat wasn’t far from the university and she preferred to walk it, that was her secret to keeping such shapely legs. There was a quaint little flower shop she always passed on the way. She couldn’t remember ever going inside, but today a particular bouquet in the window caught her eye. 

_Daffodils_. 

A daffodil and daisy bouquet. How odd, daisies has always been Patsy’s favorite flowers and daffodils, well, she had a feeling a certain Welsh woman was familiar with those. 

_But is it tacky to send a Welsh girl daffodils?_

Patsy opened the shop door with a _ding_ of the bell.

“Hello, can I help you?” an older woman said, trimming a bouquet behind the counter. 

“Yes, I would like to send some flowers. I’m sure you are much more trustworthy with selecting them, so I’d like your opinion.”

“Might these flowers be for a special someone?” the shopkeeper suggested in a way that only old women can.

“Just between us,” the redhead smirked, “I believe so.” 

By the time Patsy made it back to the flat she was done in. She looked at the clock above her desk, 6pm, but it felt every bit of eleven. On the kitchen counter she spotted the ingredients for stir fry which she had laid out this morning. She really didn’t feel like making it. In fact, what she really wanted to do was ask Delia to come over and share greasy takeaway with her so she could look at those shapely arms. _She’s probably already eaten. That’s all the better anyways, I should be taking her someplace nice._ So the redhead busied herself with making dinner, and once she’d cleaned up from that she figured she may as well go ahead and clean the oven too. And while the cleaners were out she gave the sink a good scrub. Cleaning was good, she always told herself, it accomplished something and distracted the mind. And best of all, it killed the time. 

At nine she put the kettle on and opened a drawer underneath the tv, she eyed the large vhs collection inside (arranged alphabetically as everything in the flat was). Tonight she settled on _Shakespeare in Love_ and opened the glass door of the stereo cabinet to slide it into the vcr. 

* * *

At 9:05 Delia was wiping her shoes on the mat. 

“I’ll cook if you wash up,” she offered Trixie. The blonde behind her pulled out the keys. “There is no way I’m letting you cook tonight, I don’t have three hours to wait on spaghetti. I’m ordering a pizza.” She shut the door behind them, “but you can be a dear and put the kettle on.”

 _Diiing_ went the doorbell. 

“You know Trixie,” Delia called out from the sink where she was filling the kettle, “you don’t have to ring once you’re inside. Trixie rolled her eyes at Delia, who was laughing, very pleased with herself, and went to answer the door. When she opened it, she found a sizable bouquet sitting on the stoop topped with a little card. 

“Is that Landon’s way of apologizing for cancelling this weekend’s date?” Delia asked when she spotted Trixie carrying in the flowers. 

“I’m fairly certain these are from a dashing redhead!” Trixie giggled. 

Delia’s smile dropped. “Trixie, give them to me now.”

“Let me read the card at least!” Trixie still giggled and turned her back to Delia’s grabbing arms. 

“NO,” Delia wrestled the vase safely to the kitchen table and pulled out the card. 

After a few seconds Trixie blew out air, “Read it to me at least,” she pleaded. 

Delia didn’t look up. “It says ‘Sunday afternoon, four o’clock, 320 Creek Road. Affectionately, Patsy’.” 

“Good Lord,” Trixie threw her head back, “I’m in a film. I must be.”

“Is that a date or is she just stating information?” Delia looked up in concern.

“I don’t know sweetie,” Trixie sounded exhausted by the whole ordeal, “but it looks like we need to find you another outfit.”

“These are gorgeous,” Delia looked down at the vase. Now that she had time to take it all in, she realized how truly flattered she felt. 

“The girl’s got taste,” Trixie tisked, “violets and daisies are a wonderfully classic combination.”

Delia nodded but didn’t hear, her mind was wondering as she ran a finger over the petals of a flower, a single daffodil hidden amongst a bunch of yellow roses. 

“Don’t you work Sunday afternoon?” Trixie remembered. 

“Not anymore,” Delia smirked and pushed the small card into Trixie’s chest, “You do!”

* * *

As Patsy got ready that Sunday, tucking a white shirt into black jeans, she set the needle down on Joni Mitchell’s  _ Blue _ . The vinyl was horribly scratched, but the woman couldn’t bear to replace it. She thought back to the day it was given to her. 

~~ Patsy was sitting in the basement of her parents’ house with her hands inside an old radio, carefully soldering two wires together. She heard a knock on the basement door. “Come in”, she yelled to whoever it was. When the door opened Patsy’s stomach lurched, Ellie, it was Ellie. She’d just left at 2 am the night before and she was already back, just before noon. Patsy hastily rubbed her dirty hands on the old jeans she was wearing. 

“Couldn’t stay away?” Patsy laughed and stood up. 

“I have something for you.” Ellie had a mischievous grin and hid her hands behind her back. 

“I’m afraid of what it might be!” Patsy beamed as she walked towards the taller girl. 

“Ok, so I’ve had Paul down at the record shop on the lookout for a certain album you’ve always wanted...and well…” She handed the object to Patsy. 

“Ellie you didn’t,” Patsy whispered as she looked down. She felt like she could cry. She wouldn’t of course, but she could. 

“Like it?” Ellie asked, rocking back and forth on her toes. 

“It’s the most special thing I’ve ever gotten,” the redhead looked into the girl’s beautiful brown eyes. 

If Patsy lived in a different world and Ellie was a different kind of girl, Patsy thought, she would pull the tall girl in for a kiss right now. Instead she walked over to the Audio-Technica.

“Shall we try it out?” Patsy questioned. Ellie nodded enthusiastically. 

The record popped and fuzzed its way through the first song. 

“A bit scratched,” Ellie laughed, “sorry about that.”

Patsy shook her head honestly, “I don’t care, not even a little bit.”~~

Patsy shook off the memory, she placed a loose strand of hair back in place in the mirror and fastened on a Pinion watch. “Date number two, wish me luck,” she said to the empty space before she closed the door. 

Delia parked her car on a side street and made her way to the address. She and Trixie agreed that Delia should get to the place early just to make sure it wasn’t some dodgy drug den or a novelty sex shop. Delia reasoned that it looked pretty safe as she approached, but she quickly spotted a familiar redhead leaning against the glass window, one hand in the pocket of her denim jacket, looking like James Dean and Marylin Monroe simultaneously. 

_ So much for trying to be earlier than her _ . Delia noted her date’s punctuality. 

“Oi, red,” Delia called out in her best cockney. She caught Patsy’s gaze and the redhead quickly lowered the pipe she was holding to her mouth. 

_ Hmm,  _ Delia sighed. She had figured Patsy was a bit pretentious, judging by her restaurant and clothing choices. But a pipe smoker? Now that was a whole different level of posh. 

“Where’ve you brought me?” she asked once she’d reached the redhead. 

“You’re about to find out, aren’t you?” Patsy teased with a fish hook smile. 

As Patsy stepped to open the door for Delia, the brunette caught an air of the scent she now knew to be Patsy’s signature. It was licorice, almond - rich and sweet. Upon stepping into the shop Delia’s eyes were met with rows upon rows of records and walls lined with band and movie posters. 

“David should be around here somewhere.” Patsy led her date further into the store. Sure enough, a middle-aged bald man walked out of the back room and spotted the redhead. 

“You alright Patsy!” he walked up to greet them. 

“You’re looking good as ever old man,” Patsy laughed. Delia noticed Patsy’s accent was significantly less posh as she spoke to the shopkeeper. She laughed in her head, knowing that the younger woman was doing it intentionally, to make the man feel more comfortable. Delia noticed that Patsy was still drawing from her pipe inside the store. The nurse always despised smoking (she forced Trixie to take her cigarettes outside no matter the weather) but Patsy’s pipe was different. It smelled sweet, like chocolate cherries, not like smoke at all. 

The two women spent the next hour browsing through records. Patsy dumped the ashes of her pipe into David’s ash tray and stood at the front counter with him. Delia had never owned a record player, but she was thoroughly enjoying browsing around the store and looking through the covers. She held them up to Patsy and David, and they would describe each band to the excited brunette. Sometimes Patsy would come to get the record from her and David would put it on the turntable, music filling the shop. 

“Ok,” Patsy laughed, leaving her place at the front counter, and took Delia’s hand, leading her to the back corner of the shop, “here’s what I really brought you here for.”

Patsy sat down and patted the floor next to her, Delia's eyes went wide and she followed. Patsy pulled a box of 45s from underneath the table next to her. 

“So here’s the game: you pick two people and then pull out a random record. The title is how they feel about each other.” She picked up on Delia’s confusion so she continued. “Like this,” she looked to the front of the shop, “let’s take David and that lady customer there.”

The redhead pulled a record from the box. “This is what David says to her,” she looked down, “ _ Have you ever seen the rain?”  _

Delia giggled. 

“And she says to him,” Delia continued, closing her eyes and pulling out a record, 

“ _ Stop! In the name of love” _ .

The two women dissolved into laughter, prompting strange looks from the front of the shop. 

“How did you come up with this?” Delia asked, still laughing. 

“My best friend came up with it.” Patsy’s smile had faded and she stared at the records, remembering. “We used to go to an antique shop in my town and play this for hours. We’d start match-making our friends and choosing songs for them.” Now she smiled a little at the memory. 

“Who else should we do?” Patsy changed the subject.

“Let’s do us…” Delia suggested shyly. 

“Alright Miss Busby, Patsy straightened up, “I say to you…” She pulled out a record. 

“ _ You send me.”  _

She looked at the title, then met her date’s shimmering blue eyes. Their eyes locked on each other for a moment. 

“And I respond,” Delia raised her eyebrows and pulled one from the box,

“ _ She’s got a way.” _

The both smiled at the ground, too embarrassed to look up. Patsy reached up and took the 45 from her date’s hand. “This one may just be worth keeping.”

They went up to the counter together and Patsy handed David the record. 

“Don’t forget those other LP’s,” he reminded her, “I’ve got ‘em in the back room.”

“Oh! Right,” Patsy turned to the back of the store, “be right back,” she assured Delia. 

Delia stood awkwardly at the front waiting for Patsy to return, poor David must’ve sensed it and tried to make conversation. 

“You two looked like you were having fun back there. Good on her,” he nodded in the direction Patsy had gone. “I’m glad to see her enjoying herself.”

Delia had to interject, this may be the only chance she would have to ask someone outright.

“Does she not bring women in here often?”

“Patsy?” David looked confused, “Nah, you’re the first person she’s ever come in here with.”

“Got them!” Patsy called from the back room.

  
  


It was past dark by the time the two women left the shop. 

“Are you hungry?” Patsy turned and asked Delia.

“Honestly, I could murder some fish and chips right now,” Delia admitted. 

“There’s a good place across the street, let me grab us some,” Patsy stopped Delia’s walking by placing the back of her hand against the inside of the brunette’s forearm. Delia stopped and nearly melted, feeling the other woman’s soft hand and opal ring brushing against her skin. “Yeah ok,” she choked out. 

After they received their servings of fish and chips (well-vinegared of course) the women made their way back to Delia’s car. 

Delia enjoyed the cold night air on her face and grew more playful with her date. 

“Here’s a question. Are you just mates with every shopkeeper and bartender in London, or will we eventually go somewhere that you don’t know anyone?” 

“I can’t promise I know all of them Delia,” Patsy replied, “I just seem to tread the same ground I’m afraid, creature of habit and all that.”

They reached Delia’s car and the brunette opened the passenger side door for her date. Patsy looked over to Delia as she started the engine. 

“Would you like to hear this record?” The redhead was holding the Billy Joel single. “I can play it for you at my flat, if you’d like.”

Delia wasn’t sure if ‘play it for you at my flat’ was a euphemism or if the student really just wanted to play the song. Either way she wanted to be a part of it. 

“Yeah, I’d love that,” she smiled as she pulled out, “you’ll have to navigate there, though”. 

On the drive there Patsy fought every urge to place her hand on Delia’s leg or take the brunette’s hand off the stick shift and into her own. It was terribly classless to grope a woman in her own car on your second date, so instead the redhead turned her body toward the other woman as they talked to one another. 

Delia was really struggling to keep her eyes on the road, but she was doing a good job, considering that her date’s high cheekbones and full lips consumed her peripherals and a very toned arm was practically touching her own. The brunette felt the temperature in the car rising, and now very much hoped the other woman was planning on more than listening to a record that night. 

“This is my building here, you can pull into the underground garage to park,” Patsy instructed.

Delia shook her head, “There’s no way you live here, Patsy.”

“We can argue that dear, but I’m afraid you’ll lose,” Patsy laughed. 

“I drool over this building every time I pass it, I can’t believe you live here.” Delia stared out the window in disbelief. 

Delia spent the entire walk up to Patsy’s flat begging to let her move in. “I’ll leave Trixie, she won’t mind. Or she can come, I’ll share a bed with her and you won’t even notice we’re there.”

Patsy let the brunette keep going, she enjoyed seeing the older woman fawn like this. Delia must have noticed Patsy’s contented face because she went quiet and blushed as they stopped in front of Patsy’s flat. 

“Here it is, my humble abode,” Patsy repeated Delia’s words as she opened the door. 

Delia looked around the spacious living area as she walked in. It was so homey and still incredibly elegant. And it smelled delicious, like coffee and Patsy’s cherry tobacco with a faint hint of bleach. 

“Make yourself at home, you can have a seat or look around,” Patsy told Delia as she went to help off the brunette’s coat. Delia could feel the woman’s light breath on her neck as she took the coat. Goosebumps broke out all over her body. Patsy hung up her date’s coat and went toward the open kitchen.

“Would you like something to drink?” she called back. 

“Sure, whatever you’re having is perfect,” Delia replied as she walked around inspecting the spacious living area. 

“Then will I be having brandy or coffee?”

“Um, brandy. Why not.” This evening could use a little alcohol, she thought, just to get things on the move.

Patsy returned with two tumblers of amber liquid and joined Delia where she was standing by the stairs. 

“Do these lead somewhere?” Delia asked, taking the glass from Patsy.

“They do, there’s a small living room upstairs, and a balcony.” Patsy nodded up the stairs.

“A balcony?!” And Delia was off up the stairs. 

Patsy lingered at the bottom, admiring how comfortable the older woman seemed in her home. At this point, most of the women Patsy dated were still sitting on her couch tapping their fingers on the armrest. She made her way up the stairs. 

“You have a view of the Thames!” Delia shouted from the balcony, as if Patsy didn’t know. “What is it with you and this bloody river?” Delia scoffed. Patsy walked out onto the balcony and stopped just behind Delia, placing her lips close to the brunette’s ear. 

“Like I said,” she lulled in her low posh voice, “I love the water.” 

Delia turned around slowly, her lips were just below Patsy’s and her eyes drifted up. She felt a pull to Patsy’s body and longed to make contact. Their hands touched first, their arms hung down and Delia placed her palm against the other woman’s. Patsy brought down her forehead to meet Delia’s, the older woman bit her lip.

“Let’s put on the record shall we?” Patsy purred. And with that she turned and walked back into the flat. Delia’s eyes followed the redhead’s hips as they swayed. She didn’t know it was possible to be more attracted to the woman, but now she couldn’t imagine doing anything but ripping that white tee off Patsy’s tight stomach. She took a swig of brandy to steady herself and followed Patsy back inside. 

As she climbed back down the stairs Patsy was already standing over the stereo. She looked up to Patsy and smiled, lowering the needle.

_ She’s got a way about her _

_ I don’t know what it is _

_ But I know that I can’t live without her _

The sound seemed to be coming from everywhere. Sure enough, Delia looked up to find speakers hanging in each corner of the living room and kitchen. 

“Did you do all this?” Delia pointed to the speakers and stereo system with genuine interest. 

“I did, yes.”

“How did you learn?”

“My father taught me,” there was no fondness in the words. “My great-grandfather started a radio business in the thirties. The business was passed down to my grandfather, and my father after him. It’s a duty of the men in my family to learn all about wires and signals. Well,” she rephrased, “all the men and  _ me _ , that is.” 

Delia walked back over to her. The woman seemed more tense, so the brunette placed a hand on Patsy’s shoulder and could feel her relax underneath it. There was most definitely more to this story, and more to her family business as well. Pasty must be much more affluent than she let on to afford a flat like this. 

“This is quite impressive,” Delia changed the subject by nodding at the wall-to-wall bookshelf of music. 

By the time they had finished off the brandy, Delia knew she wouldn’t be getting anywhere with the sexy student tonight. But she didn’t push, she decided to let the younger woman make the moves. 

“Well Miss Mount,” Delia set her tumbler on a perfectly placed wooden coaster. “I best be off before Trixie sends out a search party.” Both women knew that was the opposite of the truth. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to worry her,” Patsy nodded, “hell hath no fury like a blonde best friend.” Delia blushed.

“Don’t forget your coat,” Patsy met Delia at the door and held up the coat for the woman to slip into. She paused as she brought it up to Delia’s shoulders. She smoothly reached from behind her date and opened the door handle, bringing her lips to Delia’s cheek as she pulled open the door. 

Delia exhaled sharply and forced herself to walk out, her legs felt like gelatin beneath her. “Oh I almost forgot,” she turned to the redhead from just outside the door frame. “Um, I meant to ask you. My friend Val is moving into a new place next week and she’s having a little housewarming party. And anyways well, if you’re not busy Saturday night, I’d love it if you could come.”

Patsy smirked, “Delia I’d love to.” 

“Good,” Delia smiled and began walking backwards to keep her eyes on the gorgeous woman, “goodnight Miss Mount.” 

Patsy watched the woman saunter down the hall, she could still see her calve muscles outlined through the brunette’s skinny jeans. It took all of her willpower not to chase after the woman and drag her back into the flat, like a lion drags its prey into the den.  _ No,  _ she chastised herself,  _ it’s not going to be like that. Not with Delia.  _ So instead she closed the door softly and peeled off the denim jacket, laying it neatly on a kitchen chair. She decided to pour herself a second brandy, noticing her hands shook a bit around the bottle, and returned to the terrace. The cold night air helped to refresh her, and seeing the light of a small boat on the river relaxed her and made her smile. She had a million thoughts and feelings struggling for attention in her head, but she didn’t have the energy to bring each one up for review. The redhead wiped the night fog off her eyes and looked down at her Pinion. The night was still young, and Patsy knew someone who could make light of even the most suffocating problems. 

Patsy arrived at the Cutty Sark less than twenty minutes later, it wasn’t a long trip, seeing as though she could practically throw a rock from her terrace and hit the place. Christopher’s smile nearly blinded her from across the room.

“Bonsoir mon ami!” he proclaimed with two outstretched arms. 

“Make me a manhattan and ask me how my date went, will you?” Patsy easily pulled herself onto the bar stool.

“Well it’s 10pm and you’re here with me, so I can already assume it wasn’t successful.” Christopher filled a tumbler with ice and began to pour the whiskey, raising the bottle unnecessarily high as he did. Patsy rolled her eyes.

“Why is your idea of a successful date sex and a sleepover?” she asked, shooting him a quizzical look. 

“I am sorry,” he replied in mock offense, “I always figured that was your idea of a successful date.”

“Not with this one,” Patsy said matter-of-factly as she took the cocktail from Christopher’s hand.

“Well, where’d you take her?” Christopher continued.

“Cashbah?” she said it like a question and looked up at her friend. 

“The record shop? You really know how to swoon a lady, don’t you Patsy Mount?” Christopher laughed. “Did you... hold her hand?” he gasped jokingly and held his hand to his mouth.

Patsy exhaled as she took a drink from the glass. Damn she was annoyed with him, but he really did make the best manhattan. “I’ll have you know sir, I have not taken another woman, or anyone else for that matter, to a record shop since I first took Ellie.”

Christopher slung the bar towel over his shoulder.  _ They were going to talk about this again.  _

“Then why’d you take Delia?” he asked.

“It felt right, it felt like a good place to start,” the redhead replied honestly. 

“Right, but Delia isn’t Ellie,” Christopher started, “she’s attracted to you for starters…”

Patsy hid her hurt expression by looking at the floor, she still didn’t like to be reminded of that by the only person who knew. Christopher noticed her lowered gaze and realized he had chosen the wrong words, so he rephrased.

“She’s going to want to have sex with you Patsy. Anyways, you should be pleased, that’s the part you’re best at...or so I’ve heard!” he winked.

Patsy looked up to him out of the corner of her eyes, clearly not amused. She took another drink. 

“I just want to take this slowly and make sure it’s done right,” Patsy nodded. “Either way though, it was only our second date. She’d probably think me sleezy if I tried to make a move anyway!” The redhead stood and slid the glass toward Christopher, she pulled the denim jacket over her shoulder and made her way to the door. 

“You gonna pay for this?” Christopher held up the empty glass.

“Put in on my tab,” Patsy yelled as the door shut behind her back. 

“You don’t have a tab,” the bartender muttered to the closed door. 


	5. chapter 5

Delia had Monday off so she took the opportunity to catch up on her chores. Patsy’s meticulously clean and orderly flat had inspired her to tidy up around her own house. She walked around with the washing basket collecting scrub tops and other discarded clothing.

“My poor Delia,” Trixie sang from the kitchen table where she was finishing her tea. “Her uterus is going to dry up because her sexy girlfriend won’t sleep with her.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Delia corrected as she searched for more dirty clothes, “and no matter when or how we have sex, my uterus will  _ not _ be in use.”

“Well still sweetie,” Trixie continued, “if this carries on I don’t think you should hesitate to make the first move. She seems a bit old fashioned, maybe she just needs to know you’re into it.”

Delia shook her head, she tried to piece together what she’d been told. At the restaurant, Christopher made it sound as though the redhead was quite a player, but David at the record shop seemed confused when Delia asked about other women. Patsy’s life seemed quite the puzzle, and Delia wasn’t sure where to start putting it together. 

“She may be old fashioned in some ways,” Delia responded, “but certainly not in others.”

The brunette started dumping the washing into the machine, but paused and looked up. 

“Trixie, do you think she’s just not attracted to me?” Delia asked.

“Oh sweetie,” Trixie looked up seriously, “I know the look someone gives when they’re interested...I know it well,” she smiled coyly. “And trust me, when that woman first saw you coming down the stairs, she practically undressed you with her eyes.”

Delia blushed, “Well if she could just decide to do it with her hands, then we’d be getting somewhere.” Trixie giggled in response. 

Throughout the next week Patsy and Delia began texting somewhat regularly. Delia noticed that the other woman’s texts were usually quite simple and direct, so the brunette tried to dial down on her typically flirtatious use of emojis. She didn’t want to seem too eager or cheeky without being able to judge the redheads reaction herself. Saturday came, and Delia sat on a bench in the hospital locker room changing out of her nursing clogs when her phone vibrated next to her. 

**Patsy: Should I still be at your place at 6?**

Delia smiled at the thought of introducing the posh redhead to her friends, having someone to be responsible for at the party felt really nice.  _ ‘I’m sorry, but we’ve got to run,’ _ she imagined herself saying,  _ ‘Patsy has to be up early in the morning.’  _ It was a small thing but it made Delia feel so content, so complete. 

**Delia: Yes ma’m :)**

**Patsy: Oh, and I was going to stop on the way to get Val a housewarming gift. What does she like?**

**Delia: Gosh Patsy you don’t have to get her anything!**

**Patsy: But I want to, it’s very kind of her to let me come.**

Delia laughed,  _ of course _ Patsy would say that. Little did she know Val just wanted to get a look at the sexy student Delia couldn’t shut up about.

**Delia: Um, she loves whiskey, and… well whiskey, that’s about it.**

**Patsy: Alright, I can work with that. Thanks :)**

Delia went straight to the shower after getting home; she wanted to get the smell of bodily fluids off her as quickly as possible. A cloud of steam left the bathroom when she had finished and opened the door, pulling a towel around her body. Trixie came walking down the hall adjusting her sheer pantsuit. 

“Good Lord, you could cook a roast in there,” she waved away the steam. “Help,” she turned her back, allowing Delia access to the clasp of a necklace.

“There,” Delia snapped it in and kept walking toward her bedroom. She stopped in front of her closet, “What does one wear to a housewarming party,” she asked in her best posh accent.

Trixie stood in the doorway fiddling with a bracelet, “You’re not supposed to outdress the host,” she informed, “so in Val’s case, a jumpsuit and trainers.” 

“Considering I’ll be standing next to Patsy for the evening, I’ll need to do better than that.”

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted the conversation. 

“She’s ten minutes early,” Trixie glanced at Delia’s clock. 

“I think she makes a habit of that,” the brunette replied. “Stall her for me, will you?”

“However shall I do that?” Trixie giggled, “I’ll just have to think of a way!” And she was off down the stairs. “The maroon dress, with the floral pattern, wear that,” she called as she descended the steps. 

When Delia came down she found Patsy in a similar outfit to the one she’d met her in. Black and white tartan dress pants, a white shirt and the same wingtip Oxfords. The redhead smiled as Delia walked up, coming so close their bodies were practically touching. The brunette ran a finger over the midsection of Patsy’s shirt, feeling a defined ab underneath. 

“Is this silk?” she asked playfully.

“It is,” the younger woman replied, “frightfully comfortable...enough to sleep in,” she lowered her voice. 

Trixie sat on the couch looking excitedly between the two.  _ Attraction is definitely not the problem here _ , she thought. She better intervene before these two got carried away in the living room. 

“Uber’s here!” she perked up. “Let’s do this ladies.”

When the three women arrived at Val’s flat there were about ten other people scattered around the place. Delia knew all of them from the hospital, Val had a pretty intimate circle of friends that she'd known from nursing school or work. Delia hoped that Patsy wouldn’t feel out of place amongst the group. By now Val had spotted them and was making her way over with her arms open. 

“Oi! Bring it in ladies!” She stopped in front of the women and gave Patsy a very thorough glance-over. “You must be Patsy. I’m Valerie, Delia’s told me a lot ‘bout ya.”

“All good I hope!” Patsy reached out to shake the host’s hand. Val took it and pulled Patsy in slightly, “You have  _ no _ idea,” she raised her eyebrows. 

“Alright then,” Delia took Val by the shoulders to cut her off and pushed her towards the kitchen. “Go and get us a drink, will you.” 

Patsy set the neatly wrapped box she had brought on a table with some other gifts and casually took in the flat and the other guests. Her eyes followed a tall ginger-haired man as he came behind an unknowing Trixie and wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“Good evening, lovely,” he murmured into her ear. “Can I get a pretty girl a drink?”

“A pretty girl is already getting me a drink, Landon, but thank you for the enthusiasm,” she pulled the man’s hands from her hips. 

“Very well,” he said as he backed away, “but come find me later,” he winked. 

Trixie rolled her eyes and turned back to Patsy and Delia. Delia picked up on Patsy’s questionable glance and explained. “That’s Landon, a junior doctor by day and Prince Harry look-alike by night. He and Trixie have an on and off relationship,” she looked sternly at the blonde, “meaning that they’re  _ on  _ when Trixie is bored and  _ off  _ when she comes to her senses.”

Trixie smiled coyly, “Very funny, well I’m off to make my rounds ladies!” she glided off. 

Delia scoffed at her best friend’s social battery. She was already content to pop off and sink into her own couch. Maybe with Patsy. Mhm, that sounded nice. 

“Uh huum,” Delia was snapped from her daydream by the sound of Val loudly clearing her throat from across the room. She looked toward the kitchen where Valerie and Trixie were huddled, waving her over. Delia rolled her eyes, could they not act like adults and not school girls for one hour? The brunette placed her hand delicately onto Patsy’s upper arm (heavens it was so toned) and leaned in.

“Val needs me in the kitchen, sorry, I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“That’s alright,” Patsy returned the touch, “I suppose I should make my rounds as well,” she grinned. 

When Delia stepped into the kitchen her two friends practically yanked her into the huddle. 

“Val has some information you need to know,” Trixie whispered urgently. 

“You can’t have her Val, we’ve been over this,” Delia chided. 

“No, no, well yes, but no,” Val started. “You remember that chick I dated last year? The entrepreneur?”

“The unemployed girl,” Delia nodded.

“Entrepreneur,” Val repeated, “anyway, one time she took me to this small business conference thing in Surrey.” She saw the confusion on both her friends’ faces. “I thought there’d be free food, there wasn’t,” she clarified, “but getting away from the point!” She looked over Trixie and Delia’s shoulders to make sure no one was near. 

“So we were in one of those session things and guess who the presenter was,” she nodded her head toward the living room. Delia turned to see Patsy standing beside a young male nurse who was clearly besotted with her and laughing at every word she said.

“What?” Delia turned back to Val, “Patsy?”

“I’m sure of it,” Val assured her. “Apparently her great something-or-other started a radio business, making specialty wireless sets for a little organization called the BBC.” Trixie’s eyes went wide and she gasped. Val spoke faster, “I looked up the business that night, and now they make  _ uber _ fancy equipment for any rich Brit with a sound system. She said something about her dad running the business I think, and she just helped out.”

Delia’s head felt heavy with all the new information. Was this really the same woman? It had to be, Val’s story lined up with what little Patsy had told her about her family. Except one thing.

“She told me her father died last year,” Delia furrowed her brow. 

“That makes sense,” Val interrupted, “she said something about her father being in poor health, that’s why she was doing the presentation.”

“How do you remember all this?” Trixie laughed, surprised. 

“When a sexy rich redhead starts talking I tend to absorb the information!” Val whispered loudly. 

“So do you think she runs the business now, Delia?” Trixie looked to her friend.

“I..I don’t know,” Delia still felt foggy.

“Well that might explain why she brought a hundred-quid bottle of scotch to a housewarming party!” Val held up the bottle, which she’d clearly already unwrapped, triumphantly.

“Let me see!” Trixie grabbed the bottle from Val’s hand.

But Val’s expression fell serious when she met Delia’s befuddled eyes. “That’s not all, chick,” she said almost sympathetically, “the bloke who introduced her mentioned something about her being the youngest speaker they’d ever had at the conference.” She paused, “she was nineteen then, Delia.” 

Delia’s throat got tight, she tried to swallow but couldn’t.  _ That couldn’t be right, there was no way Patsy was twenty now _ . She looked back at the redhead, who had commanded the room with ease, and was now telling a story to four or five riveted listeners. 

Trixie was the first of the three friends to speak. “That dark horse,” she scoffed. 

“You have no idea,” Delia breathed in disbelief. “Give me that,” she grabbed the bottle of scotch from Trixie, who was Googling the price on her phone. She opened it, took a swig straight from the bottle, and winced as it went down. “Ugh, that’s strong stuff.”

“Uh uh,” Val grabbed the bottle from her friend. “No way you’re getting drunk on the good stuff. I’ll give you something cheaper to drown your relationship problems.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, alright! Well stay tuned for where we go from here!


	6. chapter 6

Delia tried to thank Patsy as she opened the door of an Uber at the end of the night, but it caught in her throat and came out muffled, like trying to talk while crying. Patsy didn’t respond. She’d noticed, of course. 

She noticed the instant Delia returned from her conversation in Val’s kitchen. Patsy had finished up the story she was telling and talked her way out of the group surrounding her.

Delia could see how Patsy interacted so naturally with her friends and coworkers, which made her even angrier at the student. She could feel it burning hot on her cheeks now. 

“Needless to say I owe the hotel security a very large favor!” Patsy finished her story, the group howled in laughter as she walked towards Delia. 

“There you are!” she smiled softly at her date. The brunette tried to return a smile, but it was harsh and forced. So Patsy said nothing further, she stood complacently and sipped on her wine. The redhead tried once more to connect with Delia later on. By eleven, the party had dwindled down and only a handful of guests remained. They had all taken to the large leather sofa, and Val had gotten halfway into a story about her old army days (which Delia had heard a thousand times). But Patsy reacted to the story as if she’d never heard anything so interesting. That only annoyed Delia more.

_Liar. Faking interest like the terrific liar she is._

Patsy could see Delia’s frown out of the corner of her eye and sensed her stiffness. The redhead let her hand drift from the armrest of the sofa, still nodding along to Val’s story, and slid it softly onto the small of Delia’s back. She could feel the brunette shiver under her dress, then she felt her shoulders pushing back and going stiff. 

Not quite the reaction she was hoping for. 

As subtle as she had brought her hand, she returned it, not missing a beat of Val’s story.

“Surely your sergeant knew what was going on?” she asked, intrigued. 

“Well ain’t that a story in itself!” Val was off again. 

So by the time Trixie, Delia, and Patsy had made it back into an Uber, each woman was treading carefully. Trixie was glancing out the window and pretending not to notice the tension and Patsy looked forward, making polite conversation with the driver. Delia starred at the floorboard, mulling over in her head how she was going to confront the redhead. She preferred not to do it in a cab, and she definitely wanted to avoid doing it in her house with Trixie listening in the other room. When she felt the car stop, Delia looked up and saw that they were home. Her heart pounded, it was now or never. She slid out of the car and let Trixie lead the way up to the door, and once the blonde had turned the key in the door she spoke. It still sounded tight and muffled.

“I’ll see Patsy on her way, Trix. You go ahead.”

Trixie gave a knowing nod as she shut the door. Patsy bit her lip, she knew that sentence well. She had _said_ that sentence more times than she would like to remember. And for the first time in a while, she felt an overwhelming and pulling sense of fear, fear of losing someone. She remembered this feeling, how it began by making her feel light in the head and then ended heavily in her stomach. She grabbed the rail of the stoop.

Delia turned to face her. Patsy gave her a small nod and turned to go down the stairs toward the street. She wasn’t going to wait around to hear the reasons why Delia ‘didn’t think this was going to work out’. She was sure she already knew, they’d been in her head for weeks now.

_Delia is settled in a career and is accomplished in it, I’m not._

All evening Patsy had heard stories from other nurses about how well Delia worked with her patients, especially the children. It made Patsy realize that the two of them existed in completely different worlds. Delia dealt with _real_ issues and _helped_ people. It made Patsy feel like her studies, her historical discussions, all of the main focuses of her life at the moment were nothing but pretentious chatter. But then it also made her heart melt when she saw Delia across the room, and it confirmed Patsy’s belief that Delia was definitely the kindest soul she’d ever met. 

_And she’s good with kids. Ugh._

And that was it, that’s why Patsy and her stupid records and her uni life wouldn’t be enough for Delia. 

_Not now, and maybe not ever._ Patsy repeated the words in her head as she descended the stairs. 

Behind her, Delia gaped. _Is she seriously walking away right now?_ By the time she realized Patsy was definitely walking away right now, the redhead had nearly reached the street. 

“Do you even know how old I am?” she called out. _Maybe that wasn’t the best starting point_ , she thought. 

Patsy turned around, looking quizzical. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m 30, did you even know that?” Delia repeated. 

Patsy put her hands in her pockets, her breath appeared in the air when she spoke, “I assumed you were, you mentioned it on our first date.”

Delia looked up at the sky, she could not have this conversation with Patsy looking so sexy and talking about their first date. 

“Why didn’t you tell me how old you are?” she kept her eyes up. 

Patsy paused, searching for a reply. “Does it matter?” she asked with honest curiosity. She searched for Delia’s eyes. 

Now Delia’s eyes snapped back to the redhead. “I’m sorry, does it _matter_?”

Patsy took a deep breath, Delia continued.

“I would like to be the one to decide if it _matters_ or not, Patsy. And I don’t want to be lied to when _you_ think something isn’t important.”

Patsy stared at the ground in front of Delia and kept quiet, waiting for her to blow off the steam. 

“I mean if it was a couple of years difference I wouldn’t care, but ten years is a long time, Patsy.”

Patsy furrowed her brow, realization sweeping across her face. 

“Delia, how do you know I’m twenty?”

Delia drew back into herself, losing a bit of confidence. It seemed silly to admit she found out by gossiping with her friends. 

“Val told me. It’s not like she was checking up on you or anything... she was at that business conference thing you spoke at.”

“Really?” Patsy replied, “Which one? Doesn’t seem like her scene…”

“Which _one_?” Delia laughed to herself, “Oh Lord.”

“I’m sorry, Delia” Patsy interjected, taking one step closer to the brunette. “I didn’t intend to hide anything from you, please know that.”

The sincerity in Patsy’s tone made Delia feel almost guilty for being so angry, she drummed her fingers against the rail of the stairs and waited for Patsy to continue. 

“I wanted to prove myself before I told you my age, to prove that I wasn’t what you expected a twenty-year-old to be. At that point I thought age wouldn’t make a difference,” the redhead shrugged her shoulders inside the sharp white shirt. 

“But it kinda makes a difference,” Delia’s face was strained. “It’s a decade Patsy, I’ve lived and grown a lot in the past ten years. And thinking where I was when I was your age, I still had a lot of growing to do.”

Patsy took a step back, “Oh, really, did you?” she scoffed. “Well, I’m glad you had that luxury.” Her tone was sharp and offensive. “Delia I’ve been living on my own for longer than you have, probably. And I am so pleased that you’ve always been surrounded by friends and family. I’m glad you got to make mistakes and have fun and be immature in your twenties because there were always people there to love and support you. And you know what else Delia? I’m so pleased that everyone you’ve ever loved in life hasn’t either died or rejected you.” The posh, piercing tone cut through the air and hit Delia straight in her chest. 

Delia could feel tears burning in the back of her eyes- she felt stupid that she was the one crying. 

“And if you’ve decided that some number can make this not worth it,” Patsy pointed between them, “then you’re a stronger woman than me.”

Patsy didn’t wait for Delia to respond, she had made her point and now she was done. The redhead turned quickly on her heels and started down the street. Delia opened her mouth to call out, but she didn't have the words, so she pressed her lips back together. From what she knew of Patsy, it was probably best not to stop her. It wasn’t until now that Delia realized she was absolutely freezing, she shivered as she turned back and reached for the door. Once she’d closed it, she proceeded to bang her head against the frame. Out of the corner of her eye, Delia saw Trixie stand from where she had been sitting on the bottom of the steps. 

“What happened, sweetie?” Trixie asked softly.

“I just shat all over the loveliest woman I’ve ever met. That’s what happened, Trix,” Delia mumbled. 

“Do you still want her?” 

Delia raised her head from the doorframe, “I do.” She had just realized it, but she did.

“I do,” she repeated. “But I think I just lost her.”

Trixie wrapped her arms around Delia’s stomach and pulled her in, burying her face in the brunette’s hair.

“Go to bed, sweetie, you’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.”

It felt like only a few hours had gone by when Delia awoke. She rolled over toward the window, sunlight streaming in. The light felt like it was stabbing deep into her brain, and the memories of cheap whiskey from the night before came rushing back. 

“Ughhhh,” Delia moaned as she pulled the duvet over her head.

“I take it that you’re awake then,” Trixie said from the doorway. She was already dressed, of course, and Delia started to envy her best friend's alcohol tolerance. 

“I’ve got coffee on if you can peel yourself out of that bed. You’ve got a lot to do today!”

“I’m off today,” Delia replied, the words throbbing through her head.

“Not what I meant,” Trixie called, walking down the stairs. 

The coffee helped to clear the fog in Delia’s head, and she was able to keep down at least one piece of toast, which was a success in her book (she’d always been prone to hangover vomiting). They ate mostly in silence, Delia didn’t want to hear it from Trixie but she knew the blonde would already have a ‘save the sexy student’ plan. She’d probably been thinking it up all night.

“Alright,” Trixie started. She’d managed to hold out for all of 30 minutes. “You’re getting the rich ginger back.”

“Trix,” Delia sighed, “First of all, we’re not sure that she’s rich. I don’t even care about that. Second, I barely _had_ her to start out with, so I’m not sure how I should go about ‘getting her back’.”

“Don’t you worry about that, I have some ideas,” Trixie assured.

“No, Trixie, no. I’m not making some big gesture, I’m not sending flowers, I’m not surprising her. I’m gonna call her like a normal person.”

“I’m sorry sweetie but do you remember that this girl sent you a bouquet before your second date? If you want to show her that you’re taking this seriously you’ll need to do it her way.” 

Delia leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, “Alright, just tell me what to do. I wanna fix this.”

The two women spent the next hour brainstorming. They’d decided that flowers weren’t appropriate for this serious of a situation, but some sort of gesture had to be made. Still, all of their ideas seemed either too cute and romantic or too forward for someone that Delia hadn’t even called her girlfriend yet.

“I don’t know Trix,” Delia sighed, laying her head down on the kitchen table. 

“What would Patsy do?” Trixie asked.

“What do you mean?” Delia raised her head back up.

“If this were the other way ‘round and Patsy had screwed everything up…”

“I deserve that,” Delia added.

“How would she fix it?” Trixie finished. 

“Huh,” Delia wondered. Then she stood from the table as if she’d just realized, “Well I know how she’d start.”

* * *

Patsy woke up at 7am to work out. She always worked out the morning after breaking it off with a woman, it was therapeutic. Each new contour of her abs or curve in the muscle of her arm gave Patsy a feeling of betterment. She felt stronger each time. After the workout and an extremely long, hot shower, she picked out a maroon cashmere sweater and layered it over a light blue button-up. She put on a Nat King Cole record and then made her way to start on breakfast. Sunday’s were long days, with lots of time to fill, so she tended to make a complicated breakfast to kill some of the time. Today she settled on eggs benedict and crepes, and she began mixing and frying with precision. When she’d finally finished the cooking, she drew a shot of espresso from the Estella Caffe machine and made her way up to the balcony, setting the breakfast on the outdoor cafe table. There were a few leisure boats on the water today and Patsy watched them, the morning breeze was chilly but the sun warmed the balcony just enough to be comfortable. Patsy was content with this, she reminded herself of that. She’d never minded waking up alone, she’d never minded cooking alone or eating alone, either. She never had to worry about changing her lifestyle, her flat and her life were just how she liked them and she didn’t have to bend for anyone. But she still remembered those mornings in Cambridge, sneaking up while Ellie was still sleeping to make breakfast. She preferred it that way, so that when the tall brunette came into the kitchen, in her oversized t-shirt and rubbing her eyes, Pasty could smile at her and say “Good morning”. She would’ve given the world to spend every morning like that, but this, her own space, was the next best thing. 

Her phone dinged, alerting her that someone was at the door. She left the breakfast sitting and made her way inside. The bell rang again before she reached the door. “Lord, I’m coming,” she mumbled. Patsy swung open the door aggressively, and it made the small woman standing outside jump. 

“Cripes Patsy, you scared me half to death.”

“Delia.” 

The Welshwoman gave her a weak smile. “Can I come in?”

The redhead straightened her collar and stepped back, “Of course Delia, please do.” 

Delia walked in with her hands clasped behind her back to keep them from fidgeting. 

“Would you like some coffee?” Patsy offered, politely but aloof. 

“No thank you, I have something I need to say.” Delia didn’t move from her spot in the entryway, she stood firmly and tried her best to hold eye contact with the redhead. 

“Alright, Miss Busby,” Patsy gave a little smile. She liked seeing the other woman awkward like this. 

“Well, um, it doesn't matter, the age difference," Delia started. "At least not in the way I thought it did. You’re my equal Patsy, you were when I met you and you are now. But I feel like I learned a lot about you last night, probably more than I knew before, and it was a lot to process. You hadn’t told me anything like that before.”

“Sharing things like that isn’t exactly my strong suit,” Patsy admitted. 

“I realize that now,” Delia raised her eyebrows, “and I have a lot still to learn about you Miss Mount, but there will be plenty of time for that soon enough.”

Patsy leaned against the wall and cracked her fish-hook smile, “Will there be?”

Delia continued, bolder now, “Yes. You see, I want you to be my girlfriend Pasty. I want to bind you to me so that you _have_ to tell me all of these things, no matter how painful. Because the thing is, Patsy Mount, I want you in my life, no matter what that entails.”

Patsy began taking slow, intentional steps toward the brunette. “Do you?”

Delia’s body relaxed and a smile spread across her face. “Stop being a tease Patsy and say yes already!” 

Patsy got closer and closer to Delia, the redhead stopped and stood in front of her for a moment, biting her lip, running her eyes over Delia’s body. Delia’s hands were sitting on her hips, and Patsy reached through the empty space between the brunette’s arm and her body, reaching to place her hand on the small of Delia’s back. With the other hand, she gently tilted Delia’s chin up and met her eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered. 

Patsy paused for a moment before pressing her lips against Delia’s, holding them together for a moment to breathe in Delia’s scent and feel the Welshwoman’s soft skin against her face. She pulled away tenderly, keeping her forehead pressed against Delia’s. 

They sighed. 

“On that note,” Delia perked up and turned her back to walk back out the door.

Patsy stood still, confused. But soon Delia stepped back through the door, a bouquet in her hands. 

“Yellow roses for my girlfriend,” she smiled and held them out. 

Patsy laughed as she took them. “What were you going to do if I said no?”

“Then Trixie would’ve gotten some lovely flowers,” she smirked. 

“Alright girlfriend,” Patsy took Delia’s hand gently in hers, “let’s get these in water and make you a cappuccino,” and she led her toward the kitchen. 


	7. chapter 7

Delia insisted that she absolutely _did not_ like strong coffee, so Patsy gathered all different types of ingredients from around the kitchen trying to modify the cappuccino to Delia’s taste. 

“Alright,” she carried cappuccino number four carefully to Delia, who was perched excitedly on a stool, drumming her fingers against the white marble counter. 

“This one is basically just steamed milk with nutmeg and vanilla.”

Delia raised it to her face, “Just how I like it.” She took a sip. “Mhhmm, what a barista you are.”

Patsy giggled, “You know how to flatter a girl,” she said as she ran a finger down Delia’s spine. “Come on, I’ve got breakfast on the terrace, and if you’re nice I may share.” 

“Lead the way Mount,” Delia stood with her hands still wrapped around the white bistro mug. 

* * *

The two women spent the rest of the morning on the terrace, sipping coffee and watching the river flow by. It was such a picturesque scene that Delia wished she hadn’t worn her old Uni jumper and jeans, but still she was more comfortable on the café chair then she’d been in a while. She stretched out in what warmth the rays of the early November sun could offer and rested her legs along Patsy’s lap. The redhead kept her eyes far off, on the river. She took long draws from her pipe, running her thumb over the bowl. The smoke billowed out from it, becoming obvious in the chilly air and in steady streams from the woman's breathing. Delia, reluctantly, of course, found herself enjoying the warm, sweet smell of it. When she spotted the etching on it, the older woman brought a finger to the pipe and tilted it toward her. 

"What is that engraving on it Pats?" she asked. 

Patsy's focus returned, and Delia could see a hundred memories appear in the redhead's eyes.

"E.M. They're my brother's initials, Elijah Mount." The younger woman stated the name as if it came from one of her history books. "This is his pipe, actually," she allowed her face to soften and a small smile appeared. "I remember when he first came home to visit from university. He didn't even like smoking", she laughed to herself, "but apparently it's what all gentlemanly Cambridge English students do."

Delia could see the memory was hurting Patsy to recall and regretted asking it. But she wanted to let her girlfriend remember, to tell about her brother and to make him real to someone besides herself. Who knew when, or if, she had last told someone this? So the brunette smiled her approval and waited for her girlfriend to continue. 

"He smoked this cheap black-cherry tobacco because it was the only thing he could stand. And at night we would sit on the balcony smoking and drinking coffee and reading poetry to one another. It was just the two of us, no one around for miles." By now Patsy's eyes had disappeared somewhere in the past. "And now I can't bear to smoke anything but this ghastly cherry stuff," she held her pipe out and observed it, "it reminds me of those nights, the way I used to smell it on his coat when I hugged him hello or goodbye."

"Did you live alone while he was at univeristy?" Delia asked meakly. 

"Yes," Patsy looked down and fiddled her thumbs, "my father had an apartment in Chelsea. He stayed there most of the time. Sometimes my best friend...she would stay the night, but that stopped eventually."

Delia could think of a million questions that she wanted to ask, but she chose only one. "How old were you then?" The pity in her voice was all too obvious.

Patsy met Delia's eyes, forcing the older woman to notice what she spoke.

"Fourteen," her voice broke with the word. And now Delia knew they had covered enough, so the two women sat in silence for a while. A breeze blew and Delia wrapped her arms around herself, retreating from the cold into her oversized jumper. The redhead ran her hand along Delia’s legs to warm them, but the sensation of her touch made goosebumps rise under the brunette’s jeans. She tilted her head to the side and looked at her girlfriend, deciding to break the silence. 

“Why does this feel like a scene from an Ernest Hemingway novel?”

“Ha!” Patsy laughed, slipping back into the woman Delia knew, “What a compliment.” She ran a finger along the sensitive underside of Delia’s foot, making the brunette squirm against her. “I did research on Hemingway last year, and I can assure this is all he ever did.” 

“Is there anything you haven’t researched?” Delia jokingly rolled her eyes. 

Patsy glanced off into the distance, “I’ve got a lot of time on my hands, Busby,” and she went to stand from the table. 

“Hey, that brings up a question…” Delia started as she got up and followed Patsy back into the flat. 

By the time she made it back in, she could already see Patsy through the open staircase, where she was walking back into the kitchen with the dishes. She set them into the deep stainless steel sink and turned around, leaning against the counter, she looked up to Delia leaning over the railing. 

“What question is that?” she asked. 

“So you’re getting a Master’s degree now…” Delia started as she descended the stairs. 

“Correct,” Patsy nodded. 

“So...when and how did you get your first degree?”

“Well,” Patsy took a deep breath, “I started my first degree when I was sixteen and finished at nineteen.” Her face cringed a little with embarrassment. 

“Gracious, Patsy!” Delia threw her head back, “How exactly did you manage to do that?”

Patsy straightened up, “I didn’t exactly have much demanding for my time at that point in life, or any _one_ demanding my time, so I double-tasked.” 

From what Patsy had just told her, Delia didn't doubt that to be true. But instead of digging further into the student's past, she kept the conversation light. “Well, miss overachiever, what’s next? A PhD before age 21?” Delia crossed her arms and leaned against the fridge, eyeing Patsy. 

“You’ll just have to stick around and find out,” Patsy suggested, locking eyes with the brunette. 

Delia walked slowly toward her and met Patsy with her hands reaching behind the redheads neck to pull her in for a kiss. Their second kiss was a bit firmer than the first, still Patsy couldn’t help but smile through it. 

“Why don’t you show me around properly?” Delia smiled.

“You’ve seen everything,” Patsy returned the smile, nuzzling her nose into Delia’s.

“Not every room…” the brunette lowered her eyes.

“Ah...oh...well yes,” Patsy pulled away slightly and looked slightly down at the other woman, “Then follow me for the rest of the tour.”

Off from the kitchen, there was a hallway that Patsy led Delia through, holding her hand. Patsy stopped at the first door and turned back.

“So this is the guest bathroom,” she opened the door and Delia peaked inside. She gawked at the luxurious setup, appraising the large bath and giant mirror hanging over double sinks.

“Lord, you could swim laps in that bath.”

Patsy circled her eyes around as well. “Definitely, spacious enough for at least two people,” she stated casually.

“Oh! Should I ask how you found that one out?” the smaller woman raised her eyebrows. 

“Best not,” Patsy turned and continued down the hall.

“The guest bedroom is on your left there,” Patsy continued down the hall without turning back. 

Delia stopped and peaked into the guest bedroom. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but she was surprised to see the room perfectly made up. There was an immaculately-made bed with a chest of drawers across from it, and Delia spotted a small picture frame sitting on top. The walls were decorated with pieces of art (abstract, no surprise there) and in the corner sat a very expensive-looking guitar on a stand. Delia wondered if anyone ever stayed in this room, or why Patsy kept it so prepared. 

“And this is the master suite…” she heard Patsy call from down the long hallway. 

Delia turned away from the room and skipped down to meet her girlfriend. “Show me your room Pats!” she grabbed her hand and pulled her into the bedroom. 

Patsy chuckled as she crossed the threshold, “ _Pats_...I like that.”

“Has no one ever called you that before?” the smaller woman turned back and questioned. 

“I don’t think so. Someone used to call me Patience,” she smiled slightly at the ground, “but never Pats”.

“ _Patience,_ ” Delia rolled the word around, “how endearing.”

The brunette surveyed the room, trying to hide her awe underneath a look of casual approval. But she couldn’t contain it. “Sweet Lord Patsy, this is a palace.”

Patsy smiled and scoffed, “I wouldn’t say that.”

Delia pointed to a large water-color painting over a minimalistic oak dresser, “So did you just steal this from an art deco museum or…” 

Pasty laughed heartily, “That’s a Kandinsky re-creation, I’ll have you know.”

“Why yes, of course,” Delia rolled her eyes, “I simply _adore_ his work”. She rolled over the words in a fake posh accent. 

Patsy lowered her eyebrows and came toward Delia, setting a gentle hand on the curve of the brunette’s hip. “Are you a fan of Soviet abstract-expressionism?” she purred. 

Delia gulped. “Keep saying it like that and I will be.”

The tall redhead laughed out air and pulled slowly into Delia, placing a purposeful, gentle kiss on her forehead. “I could stand right here with you all day, Delia,” she whispered. 

Under the touch of the redhead's hand, Delia felt a nervous energy rise up.  
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” she responded. 

In one swift move she reached under Patsy’s bum and lifted, her other arm wrapped tightly around the redhead’s back. Quickly, Patsy wrapped her legs around the brunette’s waist, allowing her to turn her and lay her gently onto the bed. Delia came down just as gently, arms still wrapped around the taller woman.

“Ooh,” Patsy gasped, then she lowered her eyes in a suggestive smile, “Well, Miss Busby”. 

“Paddleboarding arms,” was Delia’s quick reply. She wanted to waste no time. 

“Show me what else those arms are good for…” Patsy grabbed the collar of Delia’s t-shirt and pulled the brunette into a deep kiss. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Delia exhaled in a serious tone before returning the kiss. The kisses turned hungry and aggressive, the two women were searching for more contact as they felt their muscles begin to relax, releasing the tension that had been building up for the past month. Soon, they’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm, with Delia running her hands affectionately through Patsy’s long ginger hair. Still on top of the younger woman, she bent her leg slightly, the thigh pushing against Patsy’s pelvis. The redhead grabbed a fistful of satin sheets, “Delia,” she moaned. 

“Yes,” the brunette replied, pulling away and looking down. _Gosh, her girlfriend was so sexy. And that felt good to say._

“Delia I didn’t expect our first time doing this to be on a Sunday afternoon full of eggs benedict.”

“Oh,” the smaller woman replied softly. She rolled, quite unattractively, off her girlfriend and onto the fluffy duvet. But Patsy moved from her back and leaned over the brunette, gently brushing the loose hair off her girlfriend’s face, then placed a last kiss on her nose. 

“You’ll just have to be patient, Busby,” she smiled, standing from the bed. She grabbed the smaller woman by the waist and pulled her up against herself. “Come on darling,” her accent slipped into the Queen’s English, “let’s spend the day together.” She turned and walked out of the room briskly.

“The _day_ wasn’t exactly what I was looking forward to spending together…” Delia mumbled in response. 

“Pardon?” Patsy called from the hallway.

“Nothing love,” Delia perked up and followed the other woman back into the kitchen.

She felt a vibration in her back pocket, she pulled her phone out to check it.

**Trixie: Since I haven’t heard from you I assume it was a success? :|**

**Delia: Define success…**

**Trixie: WHAT**

**Delia: I now have a girlfriend.**

**Trixie: Say no more. My shift ends at 21:00, the house is all yours ;)**

**Delia: Ugh...I wish I needed it.**

“So, I was planning on going to the market to get some things for supper. Would you like to go with me?” Patsy asked, already elbows deep in suds from the sink. 

Delia slipped the phone back into her pocket and went over the sink, grabbing a tea towel on her way. 

“That depends, will you be cooking this supper for me?” She reached around Patsy to take a pan from her and began drying it. 

“I had planned on it, yes. If you’d like to stay for it.” 

“Patsy I’d love that...as long as you do the cooking. Unless you’re in the mood for some of my famous boxed fettuccine.” Delia raised her eyebrows. 

“No, no,” Patsy assured her, “I’m sure I’ll enjoy that when the day comes, but I’ll take care of it tonight.” She finished up the dishes and took the tea towel from Delia to dry her hands. 

Once she had wiped the counter down (again), Patsy went to the coat rack and grabbed a dark- green tartan coat before opening the front door for her girlfriend. Delia stopped in front of it. 

“Oh cripes, I forgot. I didn’t drive here, you ok with taking the tube?”

Patsy paused, she looked up and inhaled. “Actually,” she started, “Now that I’m ‘bound to you’ and all that. There’s something I should probably show you.” 

Delia looked confused but allowed the redhead to continue. 

“Follow me,” Patsy said, getting into the lift. She pressed a button Delia hadn’t noticed before and the lift traveled down, past the ground floor. 

The doors finally opened in a well-lit garage. It was too small to be for the whole building, in fact, it only housed a handful of cars. Each one was incredibly well-kept and looked hopelessly expensive. 

Patsy left the lift and started for the back of the garage. “This one here is mine,” she informed, pointing to a dark emerald-green car as she walked toward it. Delia stood dumbfounded outside the lift, eyes deadpan on the car. 

“A Jaguar,” she stated it like a fact, “my girlfriend has a Jaguar”. 

As Patsy approached the car it beeped to life, she reached for the passenger door and opened it.

“And your girlfriend would like you to get into the Jaguar.” 

Delia finally started to move towards the car. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this Pats? Then I wouldn’t have been driving us around in my sad Toyota this whole time.”

“Well I’m not exactly proud of it,” she ran her hand over the emerald finish, “It’s one of my father’s cars, not mine.” 

“It’s all the same to me,” Delia had jumped in the passenger seat and was now excitedly eyeing all the technology inside.

Patsy slid in and pushed the ‘start’ button, the car emitting a low hum. She tapped on the large screen and a map of their surroundings appeared, as well as directions to the market. 

Delia marveled, “So when you said you had no way of getting your kayak to London, you meant…”

“Have you ever tried putting a kayak on top of Jaguar?” Patsy interjected. She put the car into drive and pulled out of the garage. 

“I see.” Delia nodded. She flipped on her seat warmer and relaxed back, watching the cars pass by. The road leading to the market was remarkably quiet for a Sunday and the steady rhythm of the car had rocked Delia into a light sleep. She had been asleep for at least ten minutes when a sudden jolt woke her, and her eyes bolted open. 

“Patsy!” she nearly screamed.

Patsy was laughing at the brunette’s alarm “What?”

“How fast are you going?” her voice still raised. 

“One-hundred, but doesn’t it feel smooth?” Patsy mocked, enjoying the older woman’s distress. 

“Patsy you’re going to kill us!” Delia said as if scolding a child. “I would like this relationship to actually begin before we die.”

The redhead realized her fun was over, and so she released the accelerator and eased into the brake. 

“What do you mean by ‘actually begin’, Miss Busby?” she glanced over. 

“Oh, nothing,” the brunette looked longingly out the window, “I appreciate the pace we’re going at.”

“You’ve never been more convincing Delia,” Patsy scoffed.

“Not for lack of trying,” Delia’s tone a bit more serious now. “But can I ask you something?”

The younger woman kept her eyes on the road, “Of course you can Delia”. 

“Do you find me attractive, Patsy?” The words fell out of Delia’s mouth and she instantly wished she hadn’t ever thought them. A few seconds of silence gave the woman her answer. 

“Right...well,” she started. But she was stopped by the feeling of a light hand running along her hairline, tucking a strand behind her ear. It was a gentle touch, but a possessive one. 

“Delia Busby,” Patsy began in a tone so firm that it was almost angry. 

The brunette felt as if her lungs had melted when she tried to utter any response. 

“Yes?” she managed in a hoarse whisper. 

Patsy pulled her hand back to the steering wheel. “Today I’m taking you to the market. Then, I will be taking you back to my flat and making you a lovely dinner. And then…” she continued, “I will spend the rest of the night showing you just how utterly and hopelessly attractive I find you.” 

Delia suddenly wished they could skip the market and the dinner portion of the day. 

“Alright,” she smirked, trying to hide her giddiness. “As you wish”. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I felt like Patsy needed some masculine figure that wasn't cold and distant in her life...so enter Elijah Mount.   
> And now we're getting down to it!


	8. Chapter 8

Patsy pulled the car into a spot on the back street beside the market then came around to open Delia’s door. The seat of the Jaguar was so low it practically leveled with the pavement, so the brunette had to use her girlfriend’s outstretched hand to pull herself upright. 

“Oof,” she grunted, “rich people must have strong thighs”.

Patsy pulled Delia close into her and reached around the brunette to grab onto the back of a thigh muscle she knew would be obvious there. She gently squeezed around the smaller women's jeans.

“Thighs...among other things,” Patsy smirked. 

The brunette shut her eyes hard and exhaled. “Not fair,” she whispered tightly. She knew Patsy was going to use every minute of the time they were out to wind her up. But after all she’d practically asked for it. 

The redhead smiled at her ability to make the older nurse melt, and it made her feel giddy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt giddy. Come to think of it, she hadn’t ever felt like this. At least not when she had known the woman she fancied felt the same for her. That brought about a contentment, contentment in everything Patsy had ever experienced to bring her to this moment, this woman. And that made Patsy Mount happy, happier than she ever dreamed she could feel. But that was too much to talk about now, perhaps even too much to feel the entire weight of right now. Especially seeing as that she was still standing on the pavement grabbing the older woman’s thigh. 

“Right,” she perked up, sliding her hand down to her girlfriend’s and interlocking their fingers. “Come, Busby”.

Once they’d made their way into the market, Patsy began surveying the area as she walked hand-in-hand with Delia.  
“I’m thinking chicken marsala,” she said, her eyes still circling around, “so keep an eye out for mushrooms and tomatoes”. 

Delia preferred to stop at each booth to browse the selection of vegetables and other goods. She kept finding herself asking questions of the seller while being offered samples of honey or smelling teas. But every time she would turn to find her girlfriend gone, she searched the room with her eyes, and every time finding her five or six booths down, inspecting a bin of something-or-other. _Patience_ wasn’t quite living up to her name when it came to food shopping. 

Delia cracked a smile, _at least she’s thorough. You’d think she was serving those mushrooms to the Queen with how she’s looking at them._ The way the redhead narrowed her eyes as she focused on each item, _gosh it was adorable_ , and she didn’t even know it. Delia eased out of conversation with the seller of the booth she had been exploring and caught up with her girlfriend, still examining mushrooms. Delia took her pointer fingers and poked the taller woman’s sides; the pressure point made Patsy jump. The brunette giggled at her success and set her chin on the taller woman’s shoulder, having to stretch a little to even reach it. 

“What exactly are you expecting those mushrooms to do?” she questioned. 

Patsy reached her arm behind her to fiddle with the bracelet on Delia’s wrist, but not breaking eye contact with the mushrooms. “I’m expecting them to make good marsala. I think they’ll do.” She handed a note to the seller and took her girlfriend’s hand, leading her away. 

“So Miss Busby,” Patsy started, swinging their held hands, “I don’t think you’ve told me _anything_ about your family yet”.

Delia filled her mouth with air, “Gosh, where do I start?” she exhaled. “Well, I’ve got a typical uptight mam. She can’t _stand_ anything not-Welsh, despises London of course, thinks it’s the bowels of hell. She loves me, I don’t doubt that, even though she’s not the biggest fan of my...lifestyle…”

Patsy put a mental bookmark in that fact. 

“My tad, bless him, loves her like a teenage boy. He knows how hard she is to live with, but he just doesn’t mind. He’s not a saint, he has his flaws. But if I told that man I was going to move to Ethiopia to grow coffee he would tell me it’s an ‘exciting idea’ and then buy me a book on it.”

Patsy smiled warmly as she looked ahead of her, “He sounds lovely”. 

“He is,” Delia nodded. “Then I’ve got two big brothers, Rhys and Dafyd. Both plumbers like my tad…”

“You’re joking,” Patsy tried to suppress a laugh. 

Delia swatted her arm, “Cross my heart. Patsy, you’re dating the black sheep of the most stereotypical family in Wales.”

“Can I make a joke about black sheep and Wales now?” Patsy said, her finger against her lips to stop a giggle. 

“Bad metaphor,” the brunette sighed. “Anyway, they’re both settled down now. Rhys has two boys and Dafyd’s got a baby girl, so I’m an auntie to three these days.”

“Delia!” Patsy stopped dead in her tracks and looked down to the smaller woman. Delia froze, wondering what she had said wrong.

“That’s wonderful! Why didn’t you tell me you had a niece and nephews?” 

Delia looked back up at the redhead, surprised at the woman’s sudden interest. 

“Uhm, I don’t know, I feel bad sometimes I guess. I don’t see them as often as I should. I haven’t even been back since Lily was born, and she’s nearly six months now.” The brunette looked down at her feet. 

Patsy paused, “Are you planning on visiting soon?” she asked politely. 

“I don’t know,” Delia answered honestly, “I thought maybe Christmas? But that seems far away, and things may be different by then…”

Patsy raised her eyebrows excitedly, out of her girlfriend’s line of sight. 

_Things may be different then?_

“Well,” Patsy decided it was time to change the subject, “I mean it truly when I say your family sounds like an absolute dream”. 

“To you, maybe,” Delia joked. But in Patsy’s silence she realized the weight of what she’d said.

“Oh gosh Patsy I’m sorry,” the brunette’s eyes widened with surprise at herself. 

But the younger woman shook her head as if to say ‘it’s no matter’. That was her best defense, in fact, it was such a good defense that no one ever really knew when they had hurt Patsy. That was the key to her success, she was able to be all things to all people. But it meant, more often than not, that no one could be anything to her. 

“So then,” she tilted her head, “you’re from small-town familial plumbers and I from cold businessmen who die young. If we ever have children…” she gauged the older woman’s reaction, “I’m interested to see which way they lean!”

Delia laughed her approval, “No offense, but I’d prefer they lean my way!”

“Here here,” Patsy seconded. 

As the women made their way up the pavement to the car, Delia noticed two teenage boys taking photos in front of it. She nudged Patsy and motioned over to them. The taller woman wrapped her arm around Delia’s shoulder and pulled the woman tightly into her as they walked. 

“It’s ok,” she assured, “let her get some attention; she doesn’t get out much.” 

The sun had already set and it was growing even colder than it had been. Delia was content once they had slipped into the Jaguar and turned on the blower, the air getting toasty and comfortable. The screens and buttons on the dashboard lit up fluorescent in the darkness of the car, and combined with the subtle roar of the engine felt unreal to Delia. It was more like a sports car ride in a film, with a girl who looked like she’d just walked out of one. The cinematic nature of it all, paired with her newfound understanding of Patsy's attraction to her, brought Delia to get a little handsy on the ride home. She started by running a delicate finger up and down the inside of Patsy’s arm, which was relaxed on the gearshift. Then she brought it up to the redhead's shoulder, and the back of her neck. Patsy’s face revealed nothing but Delia noticed a change in her breathing. So she continued. The brunette turned her body to face Patsy and placed a hand carefully on the younger woman’s knee. She made circles with her thumb on the inside of the leg and slowly began moving up. 

Patsy gave her a cheeky glance out of the corner of her eye, but Delia couldn’t see it through the darkness. 

“You know I still have to make you dinner?” she uttered with a lopsided smile 

“I guess you do,” Delia responded lightly, she didn’t know if this was Patsy’s form of flirtation but it felt more like rejection to her. She pulled away her hand and placed it on her own knee. 

_Crap,_ Patsy thought. She didn’t know why she had said that. She never knew why she said things like that but nevertheless they came out. Maybe she thought that was sexy, maybe she thought it would be all the more beautiful and passionate when she finally _did_ get the brunette into bed. But now she only felt cold and unloving. Worse than that, she still felt unlovable, incapable of knowing how to be loved. This was the first shot Patience Mount had ever had at being truly known and truly loved by someone, and she was somehow managing to screw it up a different way each day. 

They finished the drive in silence. 

Ater Patsy had helped her girlfriend out of the car, she kept a firm hold on the brunette’s hand, the other hand carrying the bounty of the market trip. In doing it she tried to make a gesture she knew her words wouldn’t achieve. Back into the flat she flipped on the lights and the place instantly came to life, it was a very well lit place, no doubt of that. A few boats could be seen passing from the windows that covered the entirety of the sitting room wall. Their lights flickered a bit. Delia pulled herself onto a stool at the bar and watched Patsy as she set down the shopping and opened a large drawer next to where Delia was sitting. Inside there was a wine rack, thirty or forty bottles at least. She ran over them with her finger and stopped on one, removing and holding it up for Delia to view.

“Zinfandel, 1961. Perfect for the marsala sauce,” her posh tone informed. 

Delia carefully took the bottle from Patsy’s hand and reached for a glass from the rack above her.

“And for drinking while you make it,” she continued.

Patsy laughed and handed her girlfriend a corkscrew, “Very well Busby”. 

Delia enjoyed watching Patsy chop vegetables and stir sauces while she sipped the wine (which was incredibly delicious of course). Seeing the redhead perform with skill and precision helped bring Delia down from the discomfort earlier, and it made her feel special that someone was going to such lengths for her supper. 

It soothed Patsy as well, the domesticity of it. She’d never made supper for anyone like this, she’d done it alone countless times. Ellie had always felt utterly useless when Patsy wouldn’t let her help (a feeling she hated), so they usually ate takeaway on the couch and made a boxed cake together for pudding. Elijah was a much better cook than Patsy so he always took the lead when they made supper together. And she’d never made dinner for her father, fearing his polite compliments of the food more than his criticism. So this was the first time the student had made supper for someone, and she couldn’t believe her luck that the 'someone' happened to be this beautiful Welsh nurse.

Between Delia’s pre-dinner drink and the marsala sauce, the Zinfandel was empty before dinner began, so Patsy returned to the rack and pulled out a cabernet sauvignon 1966. 

“Alright, here we are,” she set a well parmesaned white plate in front of Delia as she refilled the woman’s glass. 

“Thank you,” Delia replied in her best posh (though it came out more like a Helena Bonham Carter impression). She eagerly took a bite.

“Uuughh,” the brunette closed her eyes and leaned back on the stool. “You astonish me, Mount.”

“I hope that means you like it.” The redhead sat beside her with her own plate and glass.

“So good,” Delia scooped more onto her fork. 

The two women continued like this until Patsy had finished, while Delia still had a considerable amount of food in front of her. Ellie always told Patsy she ate like a Marine, and every time she’d laugh when Patsy was done in five minutes. But it worked in the student's favor tonight, she figured it was time to start making up for earlier. 

She raised her hand to Delia’s back, just above the line of her jeans, and began making patterns with her ring finger over the brunette’s jumper. Delia nearly choked on a noodle.

 _Don’t rush her,_ she commanded herself, _she’s the younger one, let her lead the way._ So the nurse kept eating, playing dumb to what was going on behind her. And then it got more difficult. 

That same hand came up to her ear, gently brushing down it, then down her long hair. The delicate fingers took the hair and moved it to the other shoulder, revealing the sun-kissed skin of her neck. Patsy tilted her head slightly, looking at the skin, then brought her lips to it, stopping just above Delia’s neck for a moment, allowing the brunette’s stomach to drop down, further down than she’d like to admit. Then the redhead placed a careful kiss on her girlfriend’s neck, then another slightly below. Then she moved down the brunette’s shoulder and kissed over her jumper, at the same time taking her thumb and running it just underneath the waistline of Delia’s jeans. Delia forgot all about letting the younger woman lead the way. She had the sexual energy of a rabbit and required about as much foreplay as one. 

“I’m all done,” she chirped, laying her fork down on the plate. 

Patsy ran a pinky over that goofy smile she had on her face, “No you’re not,” she laughed, “Go ahead and finish”.

“Trust me, I’m about to!” Delia replied.

Patsy scoffed, “cheeky”.

But Delia could wait no longer and she lunged forward, crashing her lips against Patsy’s and putting a leg on the ground to stabilize her. She rested her hand underneath Patsy’s chin, pulling her even deeper into this kiss while she ran a thumb over the redhead's defined cheekbone. Soon, Patsy pulled away to catch her breath. 

“You’re all done,” she repeated to Delia and stood from the barstool. The height of the stool left Delia sitting level with Patsy’s waist so the redhead had no trouble wrapping both arms around the brunette’s bum while Delia quickly returned the favor with her legs around Paty’s waist. The redhead leaned down to meet Delia’s lips and lifted her off the stool, not breaking contact. Now she carried the smaller woman back through the kitchen and into the hallway, Delia canvasing her face with kisses all the while. Her nose, then eyes, then cheeks, she put quick kisses on each and every part of her girlfriend’s face, bookmarking each place for more attention later. Once they’d reached the bedroom door Patsy turned around to push it open with her back and carried the brunette toward the bed. She moved her hands from Delia’s back and reached behind to hold her legs, then pushed them out, sending Delia forcefully onto the bed. 

She landed with a quiet “oof” and looked up at Patsy, giggling like a little girl. 

No one had ever done _that_ to Delia Busby. 

Patsy took the hem of her cashmere jumper and pulled it swiftly over her head. Delia fought the urge to sit up and begin hungrily undoing the buttons of the redhead’s shirt. But she wanted Patsy to do it, she wanted to _see_ Patsy do it. Starting from the top, Patsy began meticulously undoing each button. Delia bit her lip to keep from begging, she couldn’t hold out much longer. 

Patsy reached the bottom of the shirt and let it hang open slightly, Delia strained to see the body underneath, but the redhead cut her off by leaning down, searching for her lips. Delia obliged her with a kiss, but used Patsy’s closeness to reach her hands into the woman’s open shirt, experiencing her girlfriend for the first time by touch, not sight. Her hands ran over a lacy bra and down the sides of her warm skin, back to the front of her stomach where she discovered, yup...abs. She knew her girlfriend had abs, not too brawny but definitely there. She could only imagine what they looked like…

But her thought was starkly interrupted by a chiming noise from her back pocket.

 _Ugh,_ she chided, _why didn’t I leave it in the kitchen?_

She slid her hands around to Patsy’s back and pulled her in, encouraging her to continue. But the ringtone was persistent, and quite a mood-killer. 

“Someone really wants you, Delia,” Patsy said from a fog, pushing herself up from the woman. 

“Nooo,” Delia whined, rolling over and pulling the phone from her pocket.

_This better be important._

It was Trixie. 

_So not important then._

Delia was still laying on her side as she answered the phone.

“What the bloody hell Trixie?”

“Delia,” Trixie’s voice was relieved, urgent, and broken on the other end. 

Delia propped herself up to sit when she realized that tone, she had never heard it from her best friend before. “Trix what is it? What’s wrong?”

“You need to come in Delia, it’s Douglas…oh my gosh,” she cried, “he’s asking for you.”

“Is he alright?” Delia’s voice raised, “Trixie is he alright?”

A broken sob came from the other end, “no”.

Delia hung up the phone and let it drop beside her. Her eyes met Patsy’s, the redhead had joined her, sitting beside Delia on the bed, no doubt she’d heard everything. Her face was brimming with concern.

“Go,” she said simply.

Delia nodded hazily and tried to stand from the bed. She grasped onto Patsy’s leg with one hand, which the other woman held to stabilize her. A second hand clung to the duvet. When she’d gotten both feet on the ground she looked down at the hand she had on Patsy. Her knuckles were white and nails were deep into the leg, she was surprised she hadn’t broken the skin, but Patsy had said nothing. Instead, the younger woman helped walk Delia to the door and opened it for her.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Patsy asked quietly.

Delia turned back in the doorway. “Uhm, no...I think I can make it. Thank you though.”

Patsy nodded and reached for Delia’s hand to place a kiss on it, she didn’t want the nurse to leave without one last one.

"Wait." she called out just as Delia was passing under the doorframe. She reached over to a hook Delia had never noticed and took off a key.

"Take the car." she held it out.

Delia wanted to protest, but she didn't have the mind to, and she knew the car would be faster. 

She mouthed a 'thank you' and turned away. 


	9. chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oddly satisfying to write about just being able to run into a hospital, no masks, no temperature checks. The freedom we used to have, eh?

Delia had imagined driving the Jaguar since the moment she’s laid eyes on it. But as she turned onto Rotherhithe New Road, she felt none of the excitement and freedom she had expected to feel. The car wasn’t a toy or a status symbol to her now, it was only a method of travel, and the accelerator was just a way to get to hospital as quickly as she could. There was no fun in this drive.

She didn’t bother to ring Trixie upon arriving at St. Thomas. Thankfully, there was no que for the car park and Delia pulled into the first spot she found. It seemed she hadn’t even been able to open the car door before a crowd of outpatients and visitors gathered an acceptable distance from the car trying to eye it casually, but failing miserably. She rushed past them without looking up and headed toward the entrance. After passing through the doors she abandoned all attempts at composure. She ran, ran like hell. She ran the same path she’d made hundreds of times, sometimes at 11:00 pm and sometimes at 3:00 am. She’d couldn’t ever remember feeling like this on the journey, though. 

She spotted Trixie almost instantly upon entering the general surgery ward. The nurse must have been waiting for her. Delia jogged down the corridor as Trixie hurried to meet her. 

“He took a turn before the operation, they couldn’t go ahead with it.” Trixie tried to sound calm as she placed her hands on each of Delia’s shoulders, running them down her arms and holding them there. The touch grounded Delia but it also drew her into the situation, making her accept this as reality. The nervous stress Delia conceived an hour earlier was now being born, and it was a painful delivery. Streams of hot tears burned down the brunette's face as she pressed her head into Trixie’s shoulder, taking deep breaths while she allowed them to fall. 

“Alright sweetie, alright.” Trixie rubbed her best friend’s back but wanted to waste no time, so she continued to speak. “They put him on a ventilator a few minutes ago. He’s conscious, but scared to death, of course.”

Delia raised her head from Trixie’s shoulder and wiped the snot from her nose in a vain attempt to regain composure. 

“Where are his parents?” she asked hoarsely. 

“Surrey.” Trixie pursed her lips in righteous anger as she said the word. “But they’ve been called for, and are going to do their son the favor of visiting him.” 

Delia nodded, she wanted to be angry as well but didn’t have the time or energy. 

“Can I go in?” she asked.

“Of course sweetie,” Trixie whispered in that airy northern posh. “I’ll make sure Phyllis knows you’re here.”

Delia always entered Douglas’s room confidently, usually with a joke, or sometimes doing a bit. She knew just how to get him, she knew that sweet spot of humor that would have the six-year-old rolling on the bed and rampant with giggles. But tonight she crept in, knowing he would be awake but not wanting to disturb him. She waited to speak until she was hovering over the bed so the little one would not try to turn his head at the sound of her voice.

“Hey there, soldier,” she whispered, tears falling into the creases of her smile. The words came out sounding almost ashamed. And she was ashamed, ashamed that this beautiful little boy had parents who wouldn’t give him the worlds of love and attention he deserved. She was ashamed that no matter how much she loved him, she could not be any more to him than what she was: his nurse. Ashamed that she couldn’t change that. And she was ashamed that she hadn’t been with him when he had been most scared; she could hear the little voice calling out for her even though he knew she wasn’t there. 

She ran her hand gently along his hot forehead, brushing aside soft brown curls. Only yesterday she had sat the little boy on a chair in the shower and washed that hair. She remembered the way she tilted his head back to pour a cup of water over it, making faces as he looked at her from upside down. The water got into his long eyelashes and they clung together, making him look no more than a baby. He looked the exact same now, only tonight it was tears that made his lashes cling. What a difference a day makes.

“Your parents are on their way,” Delia said, trying to distract from the sound of the ventilator’s mechanical breathing. There was no change in Douglas’s eyes, only indifference. Delia wished she could climb in bed next to the boy and pull him into her, tighter than she’d ever held anything. But a woven maze of tubes and chords would make it more uncomfortable than not, so the brunette sheepishly laid her head on the pillow instead. Douglas was a quiet boy, so Delia was used to silence around him. Usually, silence made the nurse feel powerless, but she’d grown to enjoy it with Douglas. She had met him when he was barely three, before the first of a long line of operations. That day his parents had left their mobile numbers, claiming they had urgent engagements to get back to but assured that they would be back to pick up their son after the operation. Douglas was inconsolable after they’d left, though Delia couldn't imagine why. Each time they would drop him off and leave, the boy would cry for two hours straight. Eventually, Delia figured out that carrying him up and down the corridor and just talking to him would soothe the toddler faster than anything else. It’d taken her weeks to get a single word out of him, but once she had, and once she’d first heard that golden giggle of his, her heart belonged to him. It was silly, really, how much his brown hair and blue eyes reminded Delia of herself, maybe that explained her draw to him. But tonight she hated herself for loving him, because he spent his little life leaning over the edge of death and life, and Delia knew that she couldn’t bear to mourn him when he didn’t belong to her, she didn’t know how. 

* * *

_“Delia,”_ the brunette woke to a hand on her back. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, but thankfully, it appeared Douglas had fallen asleep as well. Delia wiped her eyes, swollen, and still wet. Val, Val was the one standing behind her. Trixie’s shift must’ve ended. 

“Douglas’s parents are here, we better give them some time, chick.” Val continued to rub on her friend’s back, pulling her out of sleepiness. Delia’s neck was horribly sore as she lifted her head off of the bed. 

“Right,” Delia responded from a fog. She looked over Douglas, taking the sight of him in, she was so relieved he was able to sleep. Then she leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead. 

“I love you, soldier, and don’t you forget it."

Delia left the hospital feeling every bit as sorrowful as when she came in, but this time it felt more like a lostness. She felt as though she was incomplete but that she had no right to be. She wasn’t his mother, not his family, but that did nothing to make the pain lessen. She was surprised as she walked out the exit that the sun wasn’t shining through the glass windows. What time was it? She checked her phone. 

_3:21_

She must’ve been with Douglas for a few hours at most. The cold night wind was piercing and it raked across every nerve in Delia’s skin, making her want to crawl out of it and run away. 

She’d forgotten about the Jaguar until she spotted the car park. 

_The car._

_Pasty._

_Patsy’s car._

She needed to return the car tonight, but that would mean waking Patsy up. Maybe she could leave it in the garage and sneak away?

But thinking about Patsy now, a desire to be with the younger woman took over Delia’s tired senses. She wondered if Patsy’s flat could be the place she really _could_ leave this body of hers behind. She could watch the water and be warmed by the lights and get lost in the soft duvet. Patsy would wrap her in those long, gentle arms and she would be a little bit freer. She hated to wake her girlfriend, but she knew that if it were the other way around, she would want Patsy to come to her. She would want to be the comfort for Patsy so she would let Patsy be the comfort for her. And truly, Delia just couldn’t stand to be with anyone other than Patsy tonight, so she would just have to wake her. 

* * *

Patsy hadn’t been sleeping. After Delia left she’d stood in front of the door for ages, just staring at it. She wished she’d pushed harder and at least offered again to drive Delia. Now all she could do was sit and wonder who ‘Douglas’ was and where her girlfriend was going. She tried to push it from her mind, but it resisted. Still, Delia would tell her when she returned. She would just wait up for her. 

She went to the coffee bar and prepared a French press. She poured one large mug and set it aside for Delia’s return before pouring the rest for herself. As she titled the mug to her mouth she let her eyes wander around the room, searching for something to need her time. Her eyes landed on a table in the living room and the stack of records she’d brought from the shop. They needed cleaning; she grabbed the vinyl cleaner and brush, set her mug down on the table and picked up a record. Then she took the brush and ran it meticulously over the vinyl grooves to brush out the dirt. She found herself gripping the bursh so hard it began to cramp in her hand, so she stopped, took a deep breath and a drink of coffee, then continued. An hour later she had finished cleaning the records and organized them in their alphabetical spots on the bookcase. It felt like a U2 kind of night so she picked out the _Rattle and Hum_ cassette and slipped it into the deck. 

_I have climbed the highest mountains_

_I have run through the fields_

_Only to be with you_

_Only to be with you_

Any other night, Patsy would've smiled to herself at those lyrics, but tonight they just made her think of Delia. And thinking of Delia in distress, and not being close enough to comfort her, was a ripping feeling. Still standing in the middle of the living room, Patsy tried to convince herself that she didn't have enough right to Delia to be the one the woman rushed to for comfort. Perhaps that was to be expected, Patsy didn’t know, it was probably too soon for that. 

She left her mug on the table in case she wanted more coffee and made her way to the shower. She stepped in and closed the large glass door, turning the handle and allowing the warm water to stream down her body from the rain-head that covered the entire area of the shower. She wiped her face and ran her hands through her wet hair, pulling it back. Next, she pushed play on the shower speaker and then pushed stop. For once, she didn’t want to hear it, the music just seemed chaotic noise. Patsy didn’t know how long she was in the shower, but the skin on her fingers had begun to wrinkle, so it had been a while. The redhead wrapped herself in a soft white towel and went into the bedroom, pulling open the oak dresser and grabbing a pair of red pinstripe pajamas. Once she'd slipped them on she climbed the stairs, the hardwood of them cold against her bare feet, and stopped in the sitting room on the top floor. She’d made this room into a little home-cinema a few weeks ago. 

* * *

It was a few days after her second date with the nurse, an odd day that Patsy had no assignments to complete. Delia was on a twelve-hour shift and Patsy thought she best show some restraint and not text the older woman until she had finished work for the day. She’d gotten a little restless from the anticipation, very restless actually, though she wasn’t proud of it. She’d been the same way when Ellie had taken a trip to Los Angeles a few years ago. That was when she wired and set up the sound system that was now downstairs in her flat. The day Ellie came home she was beaming with pride to show her best friend the stereo. Patsy pulled her in the house by the arm before Ellie even had a chance to turn the doorknob (Ellie never had to knock) and Patsy dragged her through the enormous house and into the basement. The words raced out of the older girl's mouth as she described every part of the system and how she wired it, while the taller brunette simply reclined into the sofa with a satisfied smile. 

“I have no idea what any of that means, Patience, but I’m amazed,” Ellie said in a low voice. The redhead finally relaxed her shoulders and took an opposite seat on the couch. 

"I missed you," the older girl finally admitted, looking at Ellie's collar, not her eyes, as she spoke. "You're no longer allowed to make trans-Atlantic journies without consulting me". The younger girl gave her a laugh. 

* * *

For the home-cinema, Patsy had brought in a large sectional sofa with automatic recliners. She’d installed a ridiculously large television and a wall-to-wall entertainment center underneath it. All the VHS tapes were now displayed neatly on the shelf. There was a cabinet with a hidden minifridge and candy stand in the back corner. Patsy’s favorite part, of course, was the surround-sound system (which she had wired herself) and the original film posters she’d bought at auction. It would be a great place to snuggle up with Delia and watch her favorite films, she just hadn’t been able to show her girlfriend the setup yet. Patsy didn’t want to play the cinema’s first film without Delia, so she decided to go to her bedroom and do some reading until the nurse returned. 

The drive back to Greenwich was a little less unnerving than the drive from. Delia even allowed herself to pick up a little speed on the straight stretches (it being 3:30am and not busy). The brunette was surprised at how relieving it felt, stepping on the accelerator and feeling the power of the car rumble in acceptance, coming up to speed with no difficulty. She wondered why Patsy didn’t drive this all the time, if not just to blow off steam. She slowed down to approach Patsy’s building and, by luck, found the i.d. card for the private garage in the glove compartment. She dragged herself out of the Jaguar and into the lift, hitting the top floor button before falling against the wall and resting her eyes. The lift doors opened with a ding on Patsy’s floor and the nurse forced her legs to walk out before they shut. She made the walk to Paty’s door like a scared child and stopped in front. She placed three quick knocks, drawing back when she realized she’d actually done it. The brunette held her breath and waited--no one came. Delia turned to leave, but stopped herself. Patsy was her _girlfriend,_ if that didn’t give her the right to barge in on the sleeping student, what did? 

She turned the doorknob, _unlocked_ , thank goodness. The nurse walked timidly into the foyer and looked around the flat. The lights were on, Delia was sure that Patsy wouldn’t leave the lights on and the door unlocked before bed, so she assumed her girlfriend was awake. She forced her feet down the corridor and stopped at the master bedroom, the door was closed. She pushed it open slowly, the yellow light of a lamp casting a warm wave over the room. Delia spotted her girlfriend on the bed, the redhead's back to her, a shadow from the window looming over the sleeping figure.

Delia closed the door behind, the relief of seeing the woman washing over her. This was one person Delia _could_ claim for herself. 

“Patsy,” she whispered loudly under the weight of heavy, impending sobs. 

The redhead didn’t stir, and Delia could wait no longer, so she walked over and sat on the large bed. She put a hand on Paty’s shoulder and shook gently. 

“Patsy,” she whispered again. 

The other woman stirred and turned her head.

“Deels,” she mumbled, sounding both relieved and surprised that her girlfriend had come. But when she realized the state the nurse was in, tears already streaming down her face and the threat of heavier sobs rising in her chest, she pushed herself up. 

“Come here sweetheart,” Patsy’s voice was drenched in worry as she cradled the brunette, stroking her hair and placing desperate kisses on it, each one an attempt to ease the pain bursting out of the older woman. “Tell me what happened.” 

When Patsy woke up the next morning couldn’t feel her arm. If she remembered rightly, that arm had been underneath Delia for quite a while. Memories of the night before came back in fragments and Patsy tried to piece them together quickly. Delia had told her about Douglas, all his operations and his pricks-for-parents. Love for that little boy gushed out of her in everything she said, and Patsy felt equally heartbroken for her girlfriend and a little bit in love with her. Seeing how Delia cared about one tiny guy that she had no claim to, it was amazing how much love this woman was capable of. Patsy rubbed her tired eyes, now she realized that the space of the bed next to her was empty, still warm, but empty. The redhead rolled out of bed and stood up, extending her elbow out then in to bring back feeling. She walked down the corridor, sticking her head into each room searching for Delia. She just so happened to spot her in the guest bedroom, standing in front of the dresser with her back to the door. Patsy paused in the doorway, the brunette was still in her clothes, she shamed herself for not offering the nurse something more comfortable to sleep in. Delia looked up at the mirror hanging on the wall and spotted Patsy in the reflection, their eyes met. It looked to Patsy like her girlfriend hadn’t slept at all. 

“Good morning,” the redhead gave a little smile. 

“Sorry,” Delia replied, “I was snooping at your photos, they're the only ones I've seen in the flat and I was wondering who they were of.” 

Patsy walked across the room to meet her. She took one of the frames and ran her thumb over the image before handing it to Delia. 

“This is my brother Elijah and me,” she smiled proudly, “you can probably tell, considering we’re carbon copies of one another”.

“He's a blonde?” Delia noticed, “Oh Pats, don’t tell me you’re not a natural redhead!”

“Well you haven’t seen my parents,” Patsy raised her eyebrows. 

“And that one?” Delia nodded over to the other frame.

Patsy inhaled deeply and her eyes got wider, Delia noticed that the redhead often did this when she talked about her past, especially the painful bits. 

“Uhm, that’s my best friend Ellie,” and Patsy stopped there. 

“Oh,” Delia replied pleasantly. “Yes, you mentioned her before I think. Where does she live now?” 

“America, last I heard,” Patsy looked down then back up, “she’s in her second year studying audiology at the University of Tennessee”. 

“Impressive,” Delia said with a smile. Patsy tried to return it but faltered. 

There was a moment of silence, and it dared Delia to continue asking questions.

“Do you want coffee, Deels?” Patsy changed the subject, “Or something to eat?”

“Yeah, I’d love some coffee, and I can eat a little,” she obliged her girlfriend. 

“Alright,” the redhead nodded. “I have class at nine, but that allows plenty of time for breakfast seeing as it’s….” she looked up at the clock, “only seven”. She led the way into the kitchen. 


	10. Chapter 10

Patsy wanted to make a full English for the two of them, it being a cold morning and a while since either of them had eaten. But neither of the women had much of an appetite, so they settled on porridge and coffee (Patsy chose a caramel-pecan blend, and filled it with sugar and milk for Delia). She brought the steaming cup and bowl and set it in front of Delia at the dining table. The brunette lifted her head from her hands and let the warmth hit her face. Patsy stopped behind the woman and moved her hands to Delia’s shoulders, beginning to massage them slowly. It felt marvelous, working out the soreness and stiffness the nurse had gotten from laying over Douglas’s bed. But Patsy had no idea of that, and combined with the loving touch, it brought Delia back to tears. She tried to breathe through it slowly, hoping the redhead wouldn’t notice, but as tears chased one another down her cheeks, the crying became audible. 

Patsy said nothing about it, and she didn’t stop either. She only continued working her hands through her girlfriend’s tight muscles for the next five or six minutes. Delia’s weeping ran its course and eventually she was able to bring a spoonful of the porridge to her mouth. It warmed down her throat and into her stomach, making the woman realize how hungry she truly was. After finishing the porridge she moved on to the coffee, its heat combined with the crying made Delia’s nose run like a faucet. She took a napkin and wiped it, looking up to see that Patsy was already finished with her breakfast. The redhead had only sat down three minutes ago. 

“You eat fast,” Delia said, chuckling but not smiling. 

“Yeah...I’ve been told,” Patsy replied, looking down at the empty bowl. 

Once they’d both finished, Patsy stood from the table and gathered the dishes, taking them to the sink and rinsing them out. 

“Can I take you home? Or to hospital?” she asked with her back turned. 

“Don’t you have class?” Delia replied 

“I have time,” Patsy assured. 

“Maybe home then,” the brunette sighed, “I need to get cleaned up before I go back”. 

“Alright,” Patsy nodded, “Let me get dressed quickly and we can go.” She turned to face her girlfriend before walking off down the hallway. 

Delia stayed sitting at the table with her coffee for a moment, looking around the room. Her eyes landed on the stairs and she decided to go up to the terrace for a bit of fresh air and a view of the morning river. She climbed them with one hand on the rail and the other wrapped around her mug. The open stairway still made her a bit nervous, so many ways to fall through. She was looking down as she took the final step and arrived in the sitting room, surprised by what she found upon glancing up. 

_This is definitely new,_ she thought. Appraising the massive leather couch and telly. The brunette just shook her head and reached for the handle of the terrace door. Life with Patience Mount was a daily lineup of surprises. 

Delia was sitting at the cafe table for no more than ten minutes before she spotted her girlfriend’s tall, slender figure in the sliding door of the terrace. 

“I didn’t run away,” she smiled at Patsy. 

Patsy tilted her head, “I knew you’d only make it so far anyways”. 

The redhead was wearing maroon dress slacks with a light blue button up and a maroon tartan coat. Her brown oxfords were polished and her hair immaculately placed, half down and half pulled back with kirby grips. 

Delia shook her head, “Do you have a professional stylist hiding away back there I don’t know about?” she asked.

“Yes,” the redhead nodded, “Her name is Erin, she was my librarian at college and I see her in my head every day.”

“Your style icon is a college librarian?” Delia raised her eyebrows.

“Excuse me,” Patsy scoffed, “Miss Renfro was a sexy young woman...there’s a reason I decided to pursue information science!” 

Delia’s eyes widened, “Patsy you did not!”. 

“I’m afraid I do not know what you’re implying…” the younger woman tisked. She turned on her heels briskly and slid back open the terrace door. Delia rose up to follow, shaking her head in disbelief all the way. 

It was a mostly peaceful drive back to Delia’s house, the amber sun barely peeking over the horizon. The car was quiet, and Patsy played some Dolly Parton at a low volume while navigating through the morning traffic. 

Delia couldn’t hold her tongue another second. 

“I just need to know if you slept with your college librarian, I won’t rest until I find out so you may as well tell me!” she said. Delia was horrible at not-knowing, she needed all of the information all of the time for no other reason than she hated the idea of something being kept from her. 

Patsy tapped a finger against the steering wheel and smirked. Ellie was just the same, sometimes Patsy would hide tiny or uninteresting bits of a story from her just to drive the girl crazy. But perhaps it was too early for that kind of teasing with her new girlfriend. 

“I can assure you, Delia, it was well after I left college. I may be a bit promiscuous, but I’m not a felon!”. 

Delia’s head fell back on the headrest, her mouth hanging open. 

“I need to catch up on my wild oat sewing,” she said plainly. 

“I’d prefer you not just now!” the younger woman laughed.

She pulled off the street in front of Delia’s house and put the car into park. She met Delia on the other side of the car to help her out, taking her hand as they walked to the front door. 

“Come here,” the redhead sighed, taking Delia by a shoulder to pull her into a hug, wrapping her up tightly while running a hand up and down her back. She pulled away just long enough to place a hand on the back of the brunette’s head, gently brushing her thumb over the hair then pulling her girlfriend into a slow and tender kiss. 

Delia smiled a little as they broke apart, her eyes still closed, “What’d I do to deserve that?”. 

“Delia Busby,” Patsy said in a low voice, “I will never again let you out of my sight without giving you a goodbye kiss”. 

“Alright then,” Delia replied, the words catching in her throat. 

The younger woman opened the door and motioned for Delia to go in.

“Call me today, will you? I want to know you’re okay,” she said sincerely. 

The older woman nodded as she stepped over the threshold, “I will, promise. Now you better get to class, you’ll be late,” she said affectionately. 

“Patience Mount is never late...she just drives faster,” the redhead smirked. 

“No she will not!” Delia called to Patsy’s back as she made her way back to the Jaguar. “Under eighty, Patsy!” she shouted. 

Delia turned back around to face the inside of the house. “Trixie?” she yelled upstairs. 

No reply. Trixie must’ve gone back to St. Thomas first thing this morning to cover the first few hours of Delia’s shift so the woman could get some sleep. She really didn’t deserve that unbelievably wonderful and beautiful pain in the ass for a best friend. She went upstairs and hopped into the shower so she could take over the rest of her shift. It was an enormous relief to finally take off the jeans and jumper she’d been wearing since the morning before. 

Wow, now that she thought about it, it hadn’t been more than twenty-four hours since she’d shown up at Patsy’s door and asked the younger woman to be her girlfriend. It had been the best and worst twenty-four hours of her life, and these dirty clothes were a reminder of every bit of them. Come to think of it, only two days ago Delia had found out about Patsy’s age and her family’s business. For some reason it felt like ancient history, Delia had already reasoned away the age difference, and it had only been two days. _Oh gosh,_ Delia thought, _what the hell am I doing?_

That had always been Delia’s downfall, she was too trusting too fast. It had gotten her into trouble before, and surely she couldn’t expect any different now. She’d only known Patsy for a few weeks, and in that time she’d already discovered that the student had no apparent surviving relatives, she was _twenty_ years old, she was probably obscenely wealthy, and she’d slept with her bloody _college librarian_ among a hoard of other women, probably. Still she was falling for the other woman, falling unbelievably, horribly hard. Delia rationed that she needed to proceed with the utmost caution if she didn’t want to be left discarded and utterly devoted to the sexy Patsy Mount. 

She turned the cold water on to shock her awake, and after that slipped into a pair of clean scrubs. She wrapped her soaking wet hair into a towel and walked toward the bedroom as she checked her phone. 

**Trixie: I’m covering your shift until you’re ready to come in. But you don’t have to, Phyllis understands. She must be going soft in her older, old age.**

Delia started to type.

**Delia: I’ll be there in a bit. How’s he doing?**

She brushed out her hair and slipped her shoes on, then grabbed her keys and bag to head out. She locked up the front door as her phone dinged. 

**Trixie: Stable, maybe enough to come off the ventilator soon. He’s being moved to pediatric ICU. Mummy and daddy of the year went off to work.**

Delia made it to St. Thomas just in time to help transport Douglas to ICU. He was a trooper about it, always had been. Phyllis gave her a light schedule for the day. 

“You’ve had a long night, lass,” the head nurse had told her, “we’ll take care of the heavy lifting today.” Delia didn’t want to burden the other nurses with extra work, but she was grateful for an easy shift. However, eight hours of IV’s and dressing changes allowed the mind to wonder, and that was the last thing Delia needed. The lack of sleep and the craziness of the past few days made the nurse think herself into a distrust of her new girlfriend. 

_How on earth could I think that a rich, womanizing, university student would go after a thirty-year old Welsh nurse?_

_What did you think she wanted? To settle down, start a family?_

Delia wasn’t necessarily old or dried-up inside, but she wanted a family, and there was only so much time left to get started on that. At twenty, that had to be the last thing Patsy was thinking about, and that alone was reason enough that her and Patsy could never be. They would just have to accept that; Delia Busby refused to be a conquest, and she was not going to be made a fool of.

A few hours into the shift Delia had worked herself into anger at her ‘girlfriend’, if she could even be called that. How _dare_ Patsy use her just to get something she wanted. Is that what did it for Patsy? Older women with actual careers? Delia felt cheap, and she felt like a novelty item--just like another piece of stupid art or collectable record Patsy could keep on her shelf.

When her shift had ended she visited with Douglas for an hour or so. She turned the telly in his room to Octonauts (his favorite show) but talked over it, instead describing to the boy how his ventilator functioned and why he needed it. Douglas had always wanted to know these things, and Delia believed he deserved to, ever since he was four and tried to pull his IV out of the bandage on his wrist. Delia explained that the tube went into his skin, and pulling it out would be painful. Douglas nodded and never messed with the IV again. 

After visiting hours Delia got into her car to go home, content to tell Trixie that she had finally come to her senses about the sexy student. She opened the front door and found the blonde at the kitchen table, nursing a Horlix.

“I have seen the light!” she stretched out her arms, “I’m done with Patsy Mount.” 

“I’m sorry,” Trixie coughed on the drink, “yesterday you were practically in love with her”.

“I was not in love,” Delia pointed a finger, “I thought about it all day, that woman’s drawing me in _way_ too fast and she’s gonna play with me like a cheap toy and throw me out once she gets tired of me”.

“Or after she leaves you out all night and you get eaten by a dog,” Trixie sighed. 

“No jokes, Trix,” the brunette rolled her eyes. “That woman is enchanting, and if she’s as loose as I think she is then she’s also a master manipulator”.

The blonde rolled her eyes, “Please tell me you did not just describe a woman using the word ‘loose’”. 

“She slept with her librarian at college,” Delia shot back quickly. 

Trixie’s mouth formed an ‘o’. “I love her more and more each day,” she gasped. 

“Trixie!” Delia whined. 

The blonde laughed it off, “But do you believe that Delia?”

“Believe what?”

“That she’s a ‘master manipulator’. Has she given you any reason to think that?” 

“She will do,” Delia shook her head, “That woman’s got dirt under those well-manicured nails I know she does. It’s just a matter of time.” 

“Then give her time,” Trixie suggested. “Don’t get too drawn in, but hang around until you find out who this Patsy really is.” 

“Fine,” Delia conceded, turning around to head upstairs. “But when we’re cursing her name down at the pub, you’ll get a big fat ‘I told you so’.”

“Then the drinks will be on me!” the blonde shouted back. 

Patsy decided not to worry when Delia didn’t call or text for the rest of the day. The older woman probably needed some space and time at home to recover from the past few days. But after two days went by Delia could basically be considered a missing person and Patsy decided to intervene. She was sitting in her home office, knee deep in American slave testimonials, when she picked up her phone. 

**Patsy: Hey Deels, haven’t heard from you so just wanted to check in. I was thinking of ordering takeout for supper tonight if you want to come over?**

She tried to re-focus on the papers, flipping her Parker ballpoint pen between two fingers. Finally, her mobile buzzed with an answer.

**Delia: Hey! I’m well, thanks for checking. I would, but Trixie is making supper tonight and I’ve got to pretend it’s delicious lol.**

That was a lie, Trixie never made anything more complicated than an occasional custard-over-banana. 

**Patsy: I understand :) Give her my best!**

The student dropped the phone on her desk with a _thud_. She pressed the pen against her lips. Patsy had never really had a girlfriend before, but this couldn’t be normal. She knew it wasn’t just her tendency to get attached, but she decided to leave it. Perhaps Delia needed some time to deal with Douglas’s situation, and she would get it, Patsy decided. If that’s what her girlfriend needed, she would have it. It would just be torture for Patsy...but that was fine... a relationship was an investment and Lord knows Patsy had the time and love to make it happen.

_Love_?

No, not love. Not yet.

Trixie ripped open a packet of Digestives as she walked into the living room. 

“Delia, you actually have to keep in contact with her if you’re going to appraise this relationship,” she said blithely. 

“I am,” the brunette returned from a giant pile of blankets on the sofa. 

“And when did you last see her?” Trixie questioned.

Delia raised a blanket to her face. “A week...maybe two…?”

“Delia!” Trixie lost her grip on the biscuits to slap the brunette’s arm. “Are you serious?”

Delia retreated further into the blankets. “I’m making an executive decision here!” she defended. 

“Avoiding your girlfriend isn’t a decision Delia, it's cowardice. It’s not like you went out once, _you_ asked this kid to be your _girlfriend_!”

“She’s not a kid,” Delia shook her head as she replied, “she’s many things but she’s not that”. 

“So what the hell is your problem with her Delia?”

Delia snapped back more curtly than she’d intended. “She’s too good to be true, Trix! And when something is too good to be true it _always_ is. I’m not trying to write a Hollywood movie here, this doesn’t happen in real life Trixie.”

They were interrupted by a _ding._

Delia checked her phone, the expression on her face must have changed. 

“Is that her?” Trixie’s eyes got wide. 

Delia blew out air. “Yes.”

“Reeaad,” Trixie screeched. 

“Hold on,” Delia reached out to keep the blonde at bay.

**Patsy: Hey, Delia. It’s been a while, is everything alright? I’m just texting to invite you to something. It’s a little event with the Greenwich Historical Society, frightfully boring I’m afraid but there is free food and drink ;) You’re more than welcome to bring Trixie and make fun of the academics!**

Trixie had crawled into the pile of blankets and was reading the text, her chin resting on her best friend’s shoulder. 

“We’re going to that,” she deadpanned. 

“You think that’s the kind of place I want to reunite with Patsy?” the brunette rolled her eyes.

“Think about it,” Trixie started, “It’s not too personal, we can always leave if things go south. Plus, there’s free booze and handsome professors.”

“There’ll be free booze,” Delia corrected. 

**Delia: Sorry, everything has been so crazy! I told Trixie and we’re in! Where should we be and when?**

“Laaame,” Trixie mumbled next to her. 

“Shut up blondie,” Delia pushed the woman’s face away. 


	11. chapter 11

The next weekend came and Delia was once again standing in front of the wardrobe, flipping aimlessly through dresses. 

Trixie sauntered in with a glass of scotch in hand. “Lord have mercy on your soul,” she walked over to the wardrobe. "Just pick something already." 

“Oh,” she titled her head at the clothes, “you’re not wrong.”

“Just another reason why this is _not_ a good idea.” 

“Come on sweetie” the blonde grabbed her wrist, “we’ve got a few hours.”

An hour later the two women were standing in front of L.K. Bennette.

“Trixie, these dresses cost more than what I make in a week.” Delia turned to walk away.

“Well beauty is pain so you’ll just have to starve for a bit,” Trixie pulled her best friend in by the arm. "You need to look stunning tonight, you have no other option."

“What about this one?” Delia walked to the first rack in the store and pulled off a dress. 

“Oh sweetie no, I’m not letting you wear pink silk in late November.” 

“Well I don’t know, do I Trixie?” the brunette threw up her hands. “What am I supposed to wear to a historical dinner?”

“How do you feel about tweed?” Trixie joked, holding up her imaginary cigarette. 

“I hate you right now and I want you to know that,” Delia deadpanned. 

“Ooohh!” Trixie cut her off, looking at a rack behind the brunette and dashing over to it. 

She pulled a Fozette polka dot dress out and held it up for Delia to see. 

“This is it, it has to be this one,” she beamed. 

“A collar though? Seems a little uptight.”

“Sweetie,” the blonde sighed, “a collar will work in your favor...make you look a little less…”

“If you use the word 'scruffy' again…” Delia interrupted.

“ _Outdoor_ inclined,” Trixie finished. “This dress will make you look a little more refined,” her accent rolled over the words. 

“Fine. But if Patsy doesn’t take me right there on the floor of the fucking Great Hall then we’re leaving.” She grabbed the dress, gagging when she read the price tag.

“Deal!” Trixie nodded excitedly. 

  
  


Trixie tugged at the collar of the dress and eyed up and down the white stone pillars of the Old Royal Naval College. 

“Why the hell are we here,” she shook her head. 

“We are _here_ to blow away your sexy girlfriend and then scope her life out.” Trixie pushed her best friend forward, following a few snotty-looking old people into the building. 

“Do you see her anywhere?” Delia tried to eye around the Painted Hall inconspicuously. 

“She’s a gorgeous, tall ginger...have a feeling you won’t miss her.” The blonde was focused on the breathtaking walls and ceiling. “Good Lord this is pretentious,” she scoffed. 

“Delia!” the nurse heard her name called from across the room. She turned to spot an attractive blonde man in a bespoke navy suit coming toward her with arms outstretched. “I _told_ Patsy you’d make it. And you look sensational!” 

“Christopher,” Delia smiled genuinely, “I could say the same for you, that _suit_!” The blonde man pulled her in by the arms and kissed her cheek

“And who’s this?” he flashed a white smile over Delia’s shoulder.

“This is my housemate, Trixie Franklin,” the brunette turned around. “She’s already enjoying herself a little too much tonight.”

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Franklin,” Christopher took the blonde’s hand and kissed it. Just as charming as he could be. 

Trixie fawned, “Are you a friend of Patsy’s?” she asked delightfully. 

“I am,” Christopher nodded. “And a former student here. That’s why I came to support Patsy and face the ‘sharks’ once more.” He gestured around the room.

“I didn’t know you studied here!” Delia responded, surprised.  
“Yes, well, I got an undergraduate in history,” he shrugged, “but I dropped out a year into the graduate program. A Masters in history can be quite soul-crushing, let alone difficult, especially here,” he nodded toward the grand ceiling. 

“Patsy tried to put up the money for me to finish,” Christopher continued, “but I didn’t have the will to continue. Flipping bottles at the Cutty Sark is my true calling.”

He grabbed three champagnes from a passing tray and handed them to the women. 

“And there’s the woman of the hour now!” Christopher chimed, looking behind Delia and Trixie. The women turned, and both had trouble catching their breath. 

The crowd seemed to part as Patsy walked toward them. She was wearing a well-tailored emerald green suede suit, studded with black cuff-links, a black shirt and a green criss-cross tie. To finish it off, of course, the outfit was complete with well-polished black wingtips. The color of the ensemble made her hair (which was pinned in an elegant updo) look ablaze. Trixie chuckled quietly, knowing what this was doing to her best friend. 

Delia ran her eyes up and down the redhead, when their gazes met Patsy caught a glimpse of the brunette biting her tongue between her lips. 

“If you don’t take her right on the Great Hall floor then I will,” Trixie said lowly. 

“Get in line!” Christopher scoffed, observing the room. All eyes seemed to be on the tall student. 

“Delia,” Patsy smiled sweetly as she approached, ignoring the attention from bystanders. She reached out to take her girlfriend’s hand. “I’m so glad you made it, and Trixie as well!” Patsy flashed her eyes over to the blonde and Trixie gave a nervous giggle. 

Delia tried not to roll her eyes, five seconds and Trixie was already gone. So much for having the support of her best friend’s iron will. 

Christopher perked up from outside the circle of women, “Well Trixie, looks like we need a refill! Will you join me at the bar?”

Trixie held the empty champagne glass tantalizingly in her hand, “Certainly!” she voiced. 

These two were obviously going to get on very well, and that was a dangerous thing. Hopefully, Trixie had picked up that Christopher was a flaming queer and would resist making her usual move. 

The redhead watched the two walk away, then leaned into next to Delia’s ear, their foreheads almost touching.

“You look stunning Deels, my heart dropped a little back there,” she whispered fondly. 

Delia held her breath. “I could say the same, Professor Mount,” she uttered, running her finger over the lapel of the suit. “Green is your color.” 

Patsy straightened up, “This old thing?” her lips pulled into a fish hook smile. She set her eyes on the front of the room and continued.

“I’ve actually got to take care of something in a bit. We’ll be sitting next to Christopher so I’ll allow him to show you to the table.”

“I see, you're leaving me with Christopher!” the brunette said amusingly.

“Oh come on,” Patsy teased, “It’s not often he gets to walk around with a beautiful woman on each arm.”

Patsy motioned over to their best friends and the two blondes perked up, working their way through the crowd. 

_If that was my best attempt at being distant,_ Delia thought, _I suck at it._

“Take care of them, and be good,” Patsy pointed to Christopher before turning to head to the front of the room. Delia watched intently as the redhead was stopped multiple times on her way, mostly by older men, professors it seemed. Each time she noticed the student gave some sort of one-liner that sent the professor into laughter, then she brought them back with a serious head nod and an interested facial expression. Man, she was good. 

Slowly, people began breaking off from the gathering in the center of the room and made their way towards the tables. 

“Alright my lovely ladies!” Christopher announced, holding out his arms for the women to take, “I hope you’ve had enough alcohol because we’re in for a long night!”. 

Once Christopher had pulled Delia’s chair out for her and she’d sat, she noticed the nameplates in front of her. 

**Nurse Delia Busby R.N.**

And next to it. 

**Patsy Mount B.A. (M.Sc.)**

Delia looked around, Patsy had disappeared somewhere amongst the crowd and was nowhere to be found. At the same moment, her attention was drawn to the front of the room by the tapping of a microphone and a male voice.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for joining us here in the Painted Hall. I have the honor of introducing our speaker for the evening, and I hope you’ll all be as drawn into what she says tonight as I was about this time one year ago. When tonight’s speaker brought the name ‘Dorothy Arzner’ to my office last year, I figured it was an interesting enough start for a thesis, so I told her to go forth with my blessing. What I realized a few months later was that an in-depth study on Hollywood director Dorothy Arzner would not only change the face of film and queer theory, it would put this student on the map as one of the most promising students the Greenwhich history program has ever seen. Please make welcome, Miss Patience Mount.”

The light caught the emerald of the student’s suit as she came onto the stage, adjusting the microphone as the applause died down. 

“I’ll try to refrain from any jokes about having to _raise_ the microphone after Dr. Smith’s lovely introduction!” Laughter rumbled through the crowd. 

Delia and Trixie met eyes across Christopher. 

“ _No_!” the blonde mouthed, her blues eyes twinkling. 

The brunette put a crooked finger to her mouth, staring hard into the side of Christopher’s head.

 _“I thought you knew!”_ he mouthed, raising his hands in surrender. 

The end of Patsy’s address was met with roaring applause from the audience, who soon after stood to refill at the bar and continue mingling. Patsy couldn’t seem to move past the first table without being stopped by admiring academics. She made eye contact with her girlfriend wincing toward the line in front of her. 

“ _Sorry!_ ” she mouthed. 

The eye contact was broken by Christopher taking the brunette’s arm on his own.

“Back to the bar ladies!” he slurred. 

A few minutes later Delia was sipping on an amaretto sour, still staring down her academic girlfriend from across the room. Trixie and Christopher were enchanted in a conversation about absolutely nothing when both blondes noticed Delia’s longing gaze. 

“Alllright,” Christopher turned to her matter-of-factly. “Delia I’m going to help you by pointing out which women you need to _avoid._ ” Delia instantly picked up on how drenched in suggestiveness his sentence was. 

“Hmmm,” his eyes circled the room. “Her,” he pointed to a tall blonde in a cocktail dress. “Aaaannd...her” his finger fell on a brunette about Delia’s size. 

Delia tried to avert her eyes but she couldn’t look away from the women, wondering what Patsy saw in them. Did they _have_ something she was missing? Because they all looked like entitled brats to her, and she knew Patsy would never go for that type. _Or maybe she would._

“Ooh definitely her,” Christopher interrupted the thought, his eyebrows raised at a woman in the corner of the room. 

“Good lord!” Trixie gawked. She tilted her head sympathetically. “Sorry sweetie but that one’s gorgeous.” 

Christopher swirled his Old-Fashioned. “Jenny Lea, twenty-five, thinks the academic sun shines out her extremely toned arse. And just intelligent enough for other people to think so too.”

“And she was involved with Patsy?” Delia questioned.

“Yes,” Christopher nodded, “Patsy knew that Jenny was straight, but Jenny didn’t. They had... _something,_ for a while. Then one day, Miss Lea’s trust-fund boyfriend proposes and they go off to Greece to celebrate. I don’t think Patsy was upset, she knew it would happen before they ever hooked up. Jenny Lea was just a person who could almost match Patsy wit-for-wit.” 

“Frightfully interesting,” Trixie took a sip of champagne. 

Delia looked down, not bearing to see another face. 

“Well,” Trixie sighed as she set her glass on the bar, “after that I think I need a cigarette!”

“I do too,” Delia leaned off the bar, gulping down the rest of her drink and discarding the glass.

Christopher began to follow the women out, one hand in his pocket and one behind his back.

“You smoke, Delia?” he asked. 

Trixie glanced back with a smile, but Delia was unphased. “I do now,” she replied with a straight face. 

“Well there you have it,” Christopher laughed to himself.

It was absolutely freezing on the veranda of the Old College but Delia didn’t care, she just needed to be away from inside, and all of the people like Patsy. Those who were academic like her and posh like her, the ones that could hold a conversation about the Persian Wars and went to historical banquets for more than free booze. And she couldn’t stand to be around anyone that looked like Jenny two-first-names Lea right now. She took a deep breath of cold air, but only brought in a cloud of smoke. The brunette coughed and waved away the fumes.

“I thought you smoked now,” Trixie giggled.

Delia pinched the bridge of her nose, “Then I remembered what I did for a living”. 

Christopher reached over and took the cigarette, bringing it to his mouth for a drag before handing it back.

“I need a cigarette every time I remember what I do for a living,” he exhaled a steady stream of smoke. 

Delia heard the familiar click of shoes on the marble, she felt a crawling up her spine and turned around.

“Sorry about that,” Patsy tilted her head. The redhead smoothed her tie as she approached the three, the powerful click of her wingtips echoing through the pillars. 

“The old-timers won’t spare any opportunity to give you a dramatic reading of their c.v.”. 

Delia felt herself take a step backward, shrinking, her back had hit cold marble before she even realized what she was doing. The clicking stopped, and Patsy furrowed her brow so subtly it was practically unnoticeable, but the glisten in her eyes made Delia know her girlfriend had noticed. 

“Did you get to eat anything?” the older woman asked pleasantly, trying to comb over the moment before. 

The younger woman stepped forward, “Afraid not, so much for a banquet,” she forced a chuckle.

Christopher and Trixie looked as if they were watching a tennis match, eyes bouncing back and forth, waiting nervously for one of the women to let the ball past them. 

It was too painful for Christopher to let it continue, and he loved both of these women too much to let them stew in their own awkwardness one moment longer. 

“Well then, I say we head to the Cutty Sark and fill up on some day-old pasta!” He linked an arm with Trixie. “Me and Trix will grab this Uber and you two ladies can grab the one behind.” They started down the stairs. Patsy and Delia followed, the brunette stopped just in time, remembering to open the door for her girlfriend. 

“After you,” she gestured.

The first thirty seconds of the ride were silent, seeing as that Delia had decided it was best she rehearse what she said from now on. 

“Your speech was really good Patsy,” she admitted, “You failed to mention you were giving the _keynote.”_

Patsy smirked, “Well, you wouldn’t have come if you knew you’d just be listening to me wang on for half an hour”. 

“On the contrary,” the corners of Delia’s mouth pulled upwards. “I would’ve brought more people, so they’d believe me when I tell them how accomplished my girlfriend is.” She batted her eyes at the woman next to her. 

“Are you sure you’d want them to see?” Patsy asked, her gaze fixed out the window but on nothing in particular.

Delia didn’t quite understand what the woman was getting at.

“What do you mean? See what?” she leaned her head forward, trying to capture the redhead’s eyes. 

“It just seems like the last few weeks you’ve been keeping our relationship rather separate from your personal life. I can’t help but think it’s because you don’t want what I do, or my age, to mix into your work and friends.”

Delia starred at the headrest in front of her, feeling scolded. She would just say that she’d been avoiding Patsy, but Patsy’s explanation made her sound less like a bitch. She figured she would just run with it. 

“I’m sorry Pats, I tend to compartmentalize you see, and with every being so crazy I’ve neglected you a bit. Bad way to start a relationship, I know.”

The younger woman turned and her face grew softer, it was a relief to hear Delia admit for herself she’d dropped the ball, and it was reassuring for Patsy to be told _she_ hadn’t done anything wrong. That had always been her first assumption when it came to things like this. 

“I compartmentalize as well,” she admitted. “I’m frightfully good at it actually... except for when I really like someone.” Now it was Patsy searching for Delia’s eyes. 

“When I really like someone, my devotion tends to spill over into all the other parts of my life. My work, my studies, it spreads like an infection through all of it. I fall hard Deels, and I give my whole heart when I do.” 

Delia could feel fire on her cheeks, that was a load of teenage drama bullshit and she knew it, she’d confirmed it tonight. 

“And what about all those girls in there tonight? I know you’ve screwed through the history department like wildfire Miss Mount, did you fall hard then? Huh? Did you give any of those girls your ‘whole heart’?”

Delia stopped, pressing her cold hand to her cheek and turning away. She hadn’t meant to explode quite like that. 

Patsy’s face didn’t waver and she lifted her chin, taking a deep breath and a moment’s pause. 

“Did Christopher point them out to you?” she asked in a voice that could cut glass. 

The brunette could feel burning behind her eyes and she fought it, she refused to let herself cry over this. But a single tear escaped, and she knew the younger woman was looking at her so she replied with a simple nod. 

“I don’t know how to explain this all to you Delia but I can promise you that whatever you think about me right now is not who I am.” 

Delia wiped the tear away, “Come on, you can do better than that old line”.

The younger woman drew back, and Delia could tell that had hurt her when the redhead didn’t attempt to make her case. A dreadful silence fell over the two women and both refused to break it. Besides, the car had come to a stop in front of the Cutty Sark and they could see two perky blondes with arms linked coming toward them. 

By the time the four of them sat down at the empty bar, Trixie realized something had happened between the two women. So she kept the conversation light and fun, every so often shooting out a “Don’t you agree Patsy?” or a “Delia simply _adores_ those”. Each woman would give a nod or utter an “uh-huh”, but avoided anything more. Delia put down a few more amaretto sours while Patsy swirled her scotch, only taking a few sips. Eventually, Trixie realized that even her skilled small talk couldn’t soothe this conflict.

“I’m officially exhausted,” she announced standing up. “Delia why don’t you walk Patsy home and I’ll make sure Christopher sees me back safely.”

“You will, will you?” Christopher teased from behind the bar.

“Such a gentleman,” Trixie sang as she picked up Delia’s coat and pushed it towards her. “Off you go!” 

Delia gave a deathly cold stare at Trixie and the blonde knew she would pay for this later. 

“I can see myself home,” Patsy interrupted from behind.

“No, no,” Delia assured sarcastically, “You’re too pretty to be out there alone…” she turned around to stare straight at the redhead, “...God forbid someone take advantage of you.”

The room may as well have frosted over between them, both standing as straight as they could, not flinching. 

“Very well,” Patsy exhaled tightly. 

Christopher shot a questioning look at Trixie over the bar, the blonde shook her head to say ‘don’t ask’. 

Patsy walked three steps ahead of Delia on the pavement, knowing the smaller woman’s legs couldn’t keep up with her pace. 

“Not fair Patsy,” Delia called from behind in frustration.

“You insisted on walking me, you can keep up,” the taller woman snapped. 

“Ok, I was a bitch back there and I’m sorry,” she admitted. “Can we talk about it?”

Patsy stopped in her tracks and turned around, Delia nearly ran into her.

“Yeah, you were a bit of a bitch back there, Delia. But that’s not the problem, that’s not what I’m angry about.”

Delia rested her hands on her hips and panted, tired from chasing the redhead through the streets.

“Then tell me what the hell you _are_ angry about so we can have a discussion!” she pleaded. 

“I’m angry because you really believe those things!” Patsy all-but shouted. 

The brunette furrowed her brow. “I’m sorry?” she questioned. 

Patsy exhaled, “Could you come inside so we can talk about this before we both get soaked?” she looked skyward at the sprinkling of rain that was beginning to fall. 

The older woman nodded silently and followed her girlfriend inside.

Delia realized she was a bit drunk as she struggled to keep her balance on the lift ride. Stepping out of the lift, she realized that 'a bit drunk' had turned into 'very drunk' quite quickly. She would’ve avoided alcohol altogether if she knew she was going to be having it out with Patsy. Heck, she could barely grasp the younger woman’s vocabulary stone-cold sober.

“Delia!” 

The brunette was drawn out of a daze by Patsy snapping two fingers in front of her face.

“Hmmm, yeah,” Delia tried opening her eyes wider to stay in focus. 

“Delia Busby, you’re drunk,” Patsy scolded.

The older woman pointed playfully at her girlfriend. “We can’t all hold our booze like you, Miss Mount,” she slurred. 

Patsy pursed her lips and exhaled, “We’re not all the size of a chipmunk, are we?” she muttered to herself. 

The taller woman bent down, pressing her shoulder against Delia’s stomach and wrapped her arms around the smaller woman's thighs. She straightened up, lifting Delia over her shoulder and began walking down the hall. “I’m not doing this with you off your face.”

Delia’s eyes brightened and her mouth gaped, seeing as she was now slung over the redhead’s shoulder, her face level with her girlfriend’s toned bum. 

“Well helloooo cariad!” she catcalled to the woman’s backside. 

Patsy shook her head, trying to suppress a smile. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the topic of my thesis as inspiration here for Patsy's thesis, but don't let that bore you to tears.


	12. Chapter 12

When Delia woke up she didn’t feel quite right. This bed didn’t feel like hers. _Was this her bed?_ _Why is it so dark? Is it morning?_

Whoever’s bed this was faced the window, and from behind the blinds Delia could spot a few rays of the rising sun.  _ What had woken her up so early?  _

The woman felt a burning rise in her throat and she got her answer.  _ Oh no.  _

She threw her legs off of the massive bed and made quickly for the door, opening it and seeing a toilet on the other side of the hall.  _ A massive tub. This was Patsy’s flat.  _

Delia made it to the toilet just in time to spew the contents of her stomach into the bowl. She heard an ungodly noise come from the back of her throat but didn’t care, she just wanted to get whatever happened the night before out of her body as quickly as possible. When she could finally breathe again, she sat against the cold tile floor and pulled back her long hair. 

She immediately decided that she would no longer resort to drinking when things got rough with Patsy. Hungover was an embarrassing look for her. 

“Alright darling?” a slightly pleased voice said from behind her. 

The brunette wiped her mouth and turned around, spotting a pair of long legs in the doorframe. She traced upwards to find they were Patsy’s, standing there in a pair of pinstripe pajamas.

“Gosh, I’m sorry,” Delia groaned, pushing a palm into her throbbing temple. She couldn’t remember exactly what had happened the night before but she knew it had been bad. 

Patsy ran a piece of flannel under cold water then bent down next to her girlfriend, pressing it against the woman’s forehead. “Whatever for?” Patsy asked in mock ignorance. 

“Did I do anything I need to be aware of?” Delia asked, more embarrassed than ashamed. 

“Well,” Patsy tisked, “You did take off your trousers and very nearly the rest of your clothing when I tried to get you into the guest bed.”

“I’m sorry,” Delia repeated, now more ashamed than embarrassed. 

“Which was followed by many jokes about buying you dinner before I put you to bed…” the younger woman continued.

“Oh no,” Deila moaned. 

“And the rest...I’ll tell you when you can keep down solids,” the redhead patted her girlfriend’s back and stood. 

Delia hung her head back over the toilet, wishing it would swallow her up. 

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Seven-thirty,” Patsy called from the kitchen. “Do you work today?”

“I hope not,” the brunette groaned. 

Patsy tried to force black coffee down her girlfriend’s throat, but when gagging ensued she gave up and switched to tea. Delia also dry heaved at the mention of eggs so Patsy made up some toast topped with orange marmalade. They sat on the sofa to eat and Patsy turned on the morning news to interrupt the silence. 

“I’m sorry again about last night, truly,” Delia said, looking down at her toast. “You deserved to be heard out and instead I just got pissed and that was unfair to you, and embarrassing for me.”

Patsy situated herself amongst the pillows, “I won’t lie and say it wasn’t funny for me...because it was. But I still would’ve liked to discuss what you said to me, I do need to explain myself... _ you  _ deserve an explanation.”

“I don’t,” Delia shook her head. “Your past is your business…”

Patsy interjected, “Which makes it your business as well. I owe you that, you need to know you can  _ trust _ me, and vice versa.”

The brunette shrugged. 

“I want to explain this to you,” the younger woman nodded forward. “I suppose I just need some time to gather my thoughts.”

“Of course,” Delia assured. 

“Could I possibly take you out tomorrow night to explain?” Patsy asked sheepishly. 

“Yes you can,” Delia replied with sincerity as she stood up. “And I’m paying.”

“Deels you don’t have to do that,” Patsy returned. 

“No no, I owe it to you,” the older woman shook her head, “because I think I got some sick on your expensive duvet.” And with that she set down the mug of tea, grabbed her clutch, and made for the door. 

“Hold on Deels,” Patsy said as she got up from the table. She approached the smaller woman and placed a gentle hand on the back of Delia’s head then leaned down to kiss her lips. 

Delia received the kiss but pulled away quickly.

“No Patsy I’m disgusting,” she whined as she stretched her head farther away.

Patsy grinned, letting her hand fall down to Delia’s shoulders. “I told you that I’d never let you leave my sight without kissing you goodbye and I’m holding true to that.”

Delia scoffed, but her smile gave away how chuffed that made her feel. “If you’d seen what just came out of this mouth you’d be willing to let it slide!”

Once Delia had made it back home she went straight to the kitchen, grabbing a tall glass and filling it with cold water from the tap. She gulped it down and went in for a refill, lifting the second glass to her mouth when she turned away from the sink. 

“AHH!” she cried, sloshing water across the kitchen. 

Her scream was returned by Christopher, standing in the kitchen entryway, who had been equally surprised to see the nurse home so early. 

“CHRISTOPHER,” Delia yelled, quickly covering her eyes with her hand, “Why are you in my kitchen in your pants?”

“What on earth?” a voice came down the stairs. Trixie was tying a silk dressing gown around her as she came into the kitchen. “Delia! I assume things went well with you and Patsy last night?” she lowered her gaze suggestively. 

“Why is Christopher here in his pants?!” Delia repeated herself. The two blondes shot a cheeky look at one another. 

“No. No no no no.” 

“Even a queer clock is straight twice a day, Delia.” Christopher winked. 

“That’s disgusting,” the nurse closed her eyes, “Lord have mercy on us.”

“Just a bit of fun sweetie, gosh!” Trixie rolled her eyes as she pulled out a chair from the table, now tell us what happened with you and Patsy! You seemed a little tense when you left.”

“I catcalled her arse, slept in her guest bed, and vomited in her toilet,” Delia replied straight-faced, not moving from the sink. 

“Oof,” Trixie replied with the same perky expression. “Could’ve been worse.”

“No Trixie, it could  _ not  _ have been worse. I tried to get undressed in front of her.”

“Did you just feel it was the right moment orrrr…” Christopher started. 

“I don’t remember Christopher but I am very sure it was  _ not  _ the right moment.” Delia looked up, unamused. 

“Sweet Lord, this relationship is one trainwreck after another.” Trixie reached over Delia to grab a tea bag. 

Delia spent most of the day nursing her hangover and cleaning  _ any  _ surface that Christopher and Trixie may have ended up on last night. On the third time scrubbing the couch, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. 

**Patsy: Should I be picking you up tomorrow?**

The nurse couldn’t help but smile. 

**Delia: No ma'am I will take care of that. Be ready at seven.**

**Patsy: I cannot wait.**

“What are you so smitten about over there?” Trixie asked from a chair across the room. 

“Finality,” was Delia’s only reply. 

“You’re going to have to give me more than that sweetie,” the blonde shook her head. 

Delia stood up and tossed the bottle of cleaner back and forth between her hands. 

“Tomorrow night I will find out if Patience Mount is a fraud or my soulmate,” she announced.

Trixie sipped her tea. “So no in-between then?” 

“There can’t be, not with her. I’ll admit, my approach for the past month hasn’t been the best…”

“You mean the approach where you avoid her instead of talking to her about it?” Trixie tilted her head.

“Alright alright, harsh,” the brunette laughed. “Yes, that one.” 

* * *

Six-thirty the next night came and Delia was struggling to do the clasp on a bracelet. The nervous woman resorted to holding it still with her teeth.

“Where are you taking her?” Trixie asked from her spot in front of the bathroom mirror.

“Knngs rrrms,” Delia replied through clenched teeth.

Trixie came to stand in the doorway, watching her best friend struggle with the bracelet.

“English please, sweetie.”

The brunette finally got the clasp closed and straightened up. “Kings Arms.”

“Good choice,” the other nurse nodded. “Are you taking the Jaguar? Can she bring the Jaguar by here?”

“Trix..” Delia started.

“Can I ride in the Jaguar?” 

“I am driving to her flat and we’ll walk from there,” Delia started fiddling with an earring. 

Trixie leaned against the doorframe, “It is cruel to own that car and never drive it.”

“Well, I’ll fight that battle once I win this one,” the brunette sprayed perfume against her neck and wrists. “She’ll appreciate the walk, and I really need her to appreciate me tonight.”

“You forgot a pulse point Delia... the most important one...” the blonde raised her eyebrows. 

“Ha,” Delia scoffed. “I’ve already fought that battle... and lost a few times.” 

Delia knocked three times on the door of Patsy’s flat and stood fiddling with her handbag, suddenly nervous about seeing the younger woman. A few seconds later Patsy opened the door, and Delia’s face softened in release. Patsy was clad in a black midi dress with lace sleeves, and as she turned around to grab her clutch, Delia noticed the dress was backless. The woman’s eyes practically rolled back when she eyed the creamy skin and curve of Patsy’s spine. 

“Ready to go?” Patsy asked, clutch in hand.

“Huh? Yeah!” Delia answered with eyes wide to make up for her lack of focus. 

The walk to Kings Arms was spent talking about pleasantries, how work was going for Delia, how Douglas was improving, how difficult Patsy’s ‘History of France’ class was becoming. Neither of the women had gotten into anything too terribly deep before they’d arrived at the King’s Arms. They ordered a casual supper, Delia got a pint and Patsy a scotch and soda, then they settled into a cozy booth. 

“Well,” Patsy began, “I suppose I owe you some explanation at this point.”

“And I owe you a proper apology for the way I acted the other night.”

Patsy shook her head. “There’s no need, I told you, I found it humorous.”

“Oh! So making a fool of myself is funny now is it?” Delia amused. 

“No no, it’s just that I quite enjoyed seeing the very composed Nurse Busby come off her face for a bit!”

Delia blushed and laughed, she was glad Patsy thought her composed because it certainly never felt like she had  _ any _ composer around the posh redhead. 

Patsy took a deep breath, “I don’t quite know where to start,” she admitted. 

The older woman placed a hand on hers from across the table. “Start at the beginning,” she said, “we’ve got time.”

Patsy’s eyes narrowed and she looked down, disappearing from herself it seemed. 

“When I was a teenager I had a friend named Paige. She was in her late forties, I know that sounds odd, but we were both musicians, and we played together at different venues.”

Delia hated to interrupt but she couldn’t resist.

“Pats I didn’t know you were a musician.”

“Guitar.” Patsy nodded plainly, “Paige played piano and had the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. Anyways, she had a daughter, Ellie, who was a few years younger than me. I didn’t know Ellie very well, but eventually, she began performing with Paige, my brother Elijah, and me.

One night when I was barely sixteen, Paige asked me to drive Ellie home from a concert. I put in a Bruce Springsteen CD to break the awkward silence, and she told me that she loved Springsteen. I fell in love with her that night…” Pasty looked up to her girlfriend. 

Delia tried to seem unphased, but the confession took her a bit by surprise. “I see,” she nodded.

“Over the next few years, Ellie and I grew really close. She was my best friend...well my only friend actually, except for Paige and Elijah. Ellie was very...affectionate, I should say, and seeing as that I’d never really experienced affection, it wasn’t hard to convince myself that we could be together someday. I knew deep down we could never be, but that didn’t stop me from dreaming, and this tension just burned inside me for years. Well, one day I couldn’t take it anymore, so I decided to write her a letter telling her everything I’d ever felt for her. Not to give her, just to have for myself. No one knew I was gay, and I’d never dreamed of telling anybody, I just needed to express, in real words, who I was.”

By this point, Delia’s food was long abandoned, but she was no longer hungry. Her attention hung on every word of what she was learning about her girlfriend’s past. 

“I was eighteen when I wrote the letter,” the younger woman continued. “My father was in Chelsea and Elijah was at Cambridge, so I was alone in the house except for when Ellie came to stay. I made the mistake of leaving the letter on my desk…”

Delia suppressed a gasp. “And Ellie found it?”

“I wish,” Patsy let out a little laugh. “My father’s housekeeper did, and she took the liberty of mailing it to him in London.” 

Delia buried her face in her hands.

“I still don’t know if my father hated me for being gay or if he just hated what it would do to his reputation. His father and his grandfather had built quite the legacy, and I wasn’t going to be the one to taint it. Either way, he gave me an ultimatum: I tell Paige and Ellie, or he would. He knew he held the power, that’s what broke my heart, he knew Ellie couldn’t love me like I wanted her to and that it would destroy me to face that reality. But I wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction, so I told her...and Paige.”

“How’d they respond?” Delia furrowed her brow in curiosity. 

“Well, I poured my heart out to Ellie, told her I knew she probably felt like she couldn’t trust me anymore, that I’d lied to her.

_ She _ told me to stop being ridiculous, that she’d always known I was gay, and now she just knew she could trust me all the more.”

Patsy paused to take a sip of her drink, allowing the tension of the story to linger in the air.

“Ok you’re killing me here what happened next?”

The younger woman chuckled a little at how engaged her girlfriend was in the story, her story.

“Well next was Paige, and  _ that _ was horrible, understandably. She didn’t quite like the idea of her friend being in love with her only daughter. So she kept Ellie from coming over to my house…”

“But…?” Delia sensed more. 

“So...we would meet in a field behind my house. Go stargazing, pile blankets on the top of my old Range Rover and fall asleep.”

The older woman tried to organize in her head what she was being told, piecing the facts together to draw logical conclusions. But she was thrown off track even further by Pasty’s next statement.

“And that’s what hurt the most.”

Delia’s eyes grew confused. Patsy recognized it and realized that she was about to confess more than she’d ever even confessed to herself. 

“She still could never love me like I wanted her to. And that made those nights unbelievably painful, I don’t know how to describe why, but it did.”

She opened her mouth to continue explaining, but she had no words, and instead swirled the scotch in her glass. 

“In the end, Ellie had mercy on me,” she sighed. “There was no way we could carry on like that, so she moved to the states and never looked back. Paige and I grew apart after my brother passed, I haven’t seen either of them since his funeral.”

Delia had no words, she felt too guilty to speak. She had spent a lot of time on their dates talking about her family, telling stories about her brothers or fawning over her nieces and nephews. Now, here Patsy was, telling her in one breath about losing every person she ever loved. The nurse felt an overwhelming urge to take her girlfriend home, to wrap her in a hug and a fluffy blanket- to do anything to make the student feel truly loved. To tell her that…

No, don’t tell her that, not yet. 

They had only been in the pub for an hour or so when Delia paid the check and picked up her girlfriend’s coat, lifting it up so the redhead could slip her arms inside. Her hands lingered on the woman’s shoulders, rubbing affectionately for a moment. The younger woman gave her a simple smile as she turned around. Delia took both hands in her own.

“Let’s go home,” she grinned. 

The walk home to Patsy’s flat was absolutely freezing, and the December wind was piercing. It would have been altogether miserable if Delia hadn’t been wrapped up in Patsy’s long arms the entire way. The brunette snuggled her face into her girlfriend’s coat while they waited at a zebra crossing, and she felt a drop of cold touch her nose. Delia looked up to find snowflakes sprinkled in Patsy’s auburn hair and more falling from the night sky.

“It’s snowing Pats!” she said into the redhead’s shoulder. 

Patsy’s eyes wandered down to where a snowflake had landed on Delia’s eyebrow. 

“So it is,” she smiled, wiping the flake off with her warm hand. 

Back at the flat, Patsy whipped up two hot chocolates for the women to sip as they sat on the sofa watching the snow fall steadily on the terrace. The redhead disappeared after a few minutes and Delia took it upon herself to turn on the gas-log fireplace. She lied on her back to fiddle inside the large brick opening where she found a knob and some sort of button, which she proceeded to turn and press. Flames jumped from the fake logs and Delia jerked her hand out.

“Oof!” she cried. But once the flames steadied, she lingered on the ground beside the fireplace, warming her feet, sipping her hot chocolate, and feeling quite content. Then she heard footsteps approaching behind her. 

“I made fire!” she beamed proudly, pointing at the flames with her back still turned to the woman behind her. 

“How sweet of you,” a low voice responded from behind.

Delia turned around to find the taller woman lingering close to her. She was wearing a cozy-looking oversized checked shirt and what appeared to be a tight pair of boxer briefs underneath. 

Delia’s eyes widened, and she raised her hot chocolate up to take a drink. 

“You didn’t say it was casual dress,” the smaller woman muttered from behind the mug.

Patsy knelt down beside her girlfriend and leaned her tall torso in, taking the mug out of Delia’s hand and placing it on the mahogany coffee table. “Plans changed,” her accent rolled over the words. 

Delia felt as if she was going to burst so she pushed herself up to kiss Patsy, but when the brunette got painfully close Patsy pulled back. She looked at her girlfriend with a smile of mischief, but when the older woman returned it with a look of utter desperation, Patsy gave in. 

“Delia, may I take you to bed?” she asked with a face of complete, honest vulnerability. 

“Oh gosh yes please do.” Delia closed her eyes tight as she exhaled the words.

The redhead cracked a childlike smile, quite pleased with herself. Then she leaned back into Delia and began kissing her firmly. The woman’s lips tasted of chocolate; Patsy ran her tongue slowly over the bottom lip for the sweetness. The brunette moaned into her.

Delia could feel the weight of Patsy pressing against her, leading her to lie back on the floor. She didn’t even break the contact of their lips to speak. “Right here?” she asked. 

Patsy looked at her and then over to the fire, “Well it’s warm here...and this is an expensive rug...it’s soft.”

Delia tried to shake her head in amusement, but it was too attached to Patsy’s to move. 

“Miss Mount, how are you so sexy and yet so practical?” 

“Lots of practice,” the younger woman lulled, now hovering just slightly over Delia’s still body. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little snow and cuddles for your boiling August weekend. And that's as raunchy as you're gonna get from me, you can fill in the blanks on your own time ;)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to keep adding to this little endeavor, but I've got some research deadlines of my own knocking at the door...

Patsy felt something tickling her eyes as she opened them; they were heavy from sleep. Hair, brown hair. Definitely wasn’t hers. She took it in hand and brushed it over to Delia’s side, smiling as she thought about all the things that had led them into bed the night before. She lifted the duvet and slid out, careful not to wake her girlfriend, then journeyed to the kitchen with her sights set on coffee.   
Patsy dropped some beans into the burr grinder and went over to the windows to lift the blinds. As she raised the last one and took in the morning’s view, she felt two strong hands wrap around her torso.   
“Close them back so I can do improper things with you,” Delia said sleepily, placing her chin on the taller woman’s shoulder.   
Patsy tisked as she interlocked their fingers, then spun around to face her girlfriend.   
“You have work Miss Busby, and I have class.”   
Delia raised on her tip-toes and kissed the redhead. “I promise it won’t last that long.”  
Patsy laughed as she pushed the redhead down, “No! Come help me make your breakfast.”  
The brunette threw her head back and dragged herself toward the kitchen. 

  
Patsy found her mind wandering during a lecture that day. She reclined in her seat, ran her finger along the seam of her leather folio and tapped her Parker ball-point against the corner of her mouth. Her mind kept combing over every detail of the night before. There was something about it that had made her feel...justified. For the first time she felt like Delia had truly seen her as an equal adult and not just some uni kid. Not to mention that Patsy’s carnal knowledge had left Delia a little...breathless, to say the least. Now she was probably a little more grateful for all those history-department girls the younger woman had seduced before her.   
The redhead broke a smile and tried to hide it behind her pen.   
“I see you’re nodding along, Miss Mount, would you like to add something?” the professor continued from the front of the lecture hall.  
Patsy snapped back into focus and straightened up, raising her eyes to the professor.   
“Yes, well, I think we can tie this into transnationalism…” she began. 

  
Delia was likewise a little distracted at work. She gave IV’s and changed bedpans with a little more pep than was typically her style. Her mood was only boosted by the fact that Douglas had been returned to the general ward to build strength for his next operation. On her way to his room, the nurse felt a pinch on her bum. She turned around quickly to meet Val’s cheeky smile. Delia had to grab Valerie’s arm to keep her knees from giving out underneath her-she hadn’t quite rallied her strength back yet.   
“Oof chick,” the other nurse grabbed onto her, “So Trixie’s story is you didn’t come home last night? Did the sexy student take advantage of you? Should I sound the alarm?”  
Delia tried to suppress her schoolgirl smile. “Sound the alarm, ‘cause boy did she ever…”  
Val’s eyes went wide and her mouth formed an excited “o”.   
“Does Trix know?!” she whispered loudly.   
“NO, and I swear if you tell her…” the smaller nurse pointed. At that moment she spotted the blonde approaching, clearly close enough to have heard. Delia smacked her forehead.  
“Tell her what?” she beamed. “That Delia Busby got lucky with a twenty-year-old millionaire?”  
“Millionaire?!” Val gasped as she turned back around.  
“We don’t know that,” Delia returned her pointed finger to the taller brunette.   
But at this point, neither of the women was listening.   
“I will deal with this later,” Delia rolled her eyes as she grabbed the clipboard from outside Douglas’s room and went inside. 

“Dinner!” she called to the little boy as she entered, holding up the bag to be attached to Douglas’s feeding tube. The curly-haired boy rolled over at the sound of her voice, then buried his face in his little hands to try and hide his smile.   
“Tonight’s menu,” the nurse informed as she hooked up the bag, “is steak and eggs, with a side of peas…”  
“I don’t like peas,” the boy chimed in.  
“Did I say peas? I’m sorry I meant…”  
“Carrots!”   
“Yes, yes, carrots. And for pudding, a nice big…”  
“Cream horn!”  
“Yup, a cream horn, you’re exactly right.” Delia nodded, her lips spread into a genuine smile and she couldn’t help but melt. 

Delia finished with the bag and sat down on the end of Douglas’s bed to take his readings.  
“What are you having for dinner?” he asked, fiddling with some Legos.  
The nurse returned an uncertain look and thought for a moment.   
“I’m not sure, soldier, I was thinking about making supper for my girlfriend.”  
“You have a girlfriend?” he asked without looking up.  
“I do,” Delia’s voice went higher on the last word, judging if she should’ve offered that information. The last thing she needed was Douglas’s parents knowing she was gay -- no doubt they would request another nurse.   
The boy concentrated on his Lego’s as he pushed two together. “Can I meet her?”   
Delia looked around the room, searching for an answer. She wanted nothing more than to introduce two of the most important people in her life to one another. But she couldn’t even begin to imagine if that was appropriate, or how she would make it happen.   
“I would love for you too,” she took the boy’s small feet in her hands and began working the muscles, “but I’ll have to ask Nurse Crane if it’s ok.”  
“I’ll tell her to say yes,” Douglas met Delia’s eyes as if to assure her.   
The nurse laughed through her nose and stood up to leave. “Alright sir, but watch out, she’s a tough one!”

  
Around the same time, 4 pm to be exact, Patsy was making her way into the office of Dr. Smith, her research advisor. She straightened her collar as she sat down in an antique upholstered chair, waiting for Dr. Smith to straighten his files and take out his fountain pen. Dr. Smith (Troy, he had always insisted Patsy call him) was in his late fifties, and the two of them got on very well together. They were both more pretentious than the environment they found themselves in, and both preferred it that way. Both could both carry on a conversation about history for hours, but also knew how to tailor their small-talk to cater to a crowd. Anytime they attended a conference (which was a regular occurrence), they left the other professors and academics baffled by their dazzling dynamic.   
“So,” Dr. Smith looked up from his messy desk, “Have you found any of those films?”  
“Afraid not,” Patsy winced, “A fire in ‘37 destroyed all the pre-1935 negatives, so I’ll have to go off of reviews, some of which I found.” She pulled out a file folder and passed it over the desk.  
“Huh,” he replied. “This will make things harder, sure you’re up for it?”  
“Of course,” Patsy smirked. “Finding what no one’s ever found...isn’t that what we signed up for?”

As Patsy walked down the steps of the building she heard her phone ringing inside her bag.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” she said like a schoolgirl upon answering.   
“Mmmm,” Delia lulled from the other end of the line. “I would tell you what I’ve been thinking about, but I might just lose my job if anyone hears.”  
Patsy scoffed, pretending not to be seriously aroused.   
“So hey, where are you right now?” Delia began.  
“Leaving the Old College, why?”  
“Are you done for the day?”  
“Uhh, yeah.”  
“Well,” Delia started, “How would you like to come by to come by St. Thomas and meet an adorable little brown-haired boy, and then have your girlfriend make you supper?”  
“That sounds like an absolutely wonderful night,” Patsy replied honestly. “Am I allowed?”  
“I’ve got approval from the mouth of God, otherwise known as Nurse Crane…”  
“Splendid, I’ll catch a train and be there in 30 minutes or so.”  
“Great!”   
“Hey Delia,” Patsy said after a moment of silence.   
“Yeah?”  
“Are you sure you want me to meet Douglas?   
“Yeah, of course,” Delia replied, “Why not?”   
“I just know he’s very special to you.”  
“And that’s why I want you to meet him!” Delia piped up.  
“Alright then,” Patsy replied apprehensively. “I’m on my way.”

Patsy eyed her shoes as she waited outside St. Thomas to meet Delia. They’d gotten some dirt on them in the underground, she bent over and wiped the smudge with her thumb.   
Fwee fweew the student heard a whistle from behind her and she rolled her eyes, there was no way she was getting cat-called outside an A&E. But when she turned around, she met eyes with a small brunette nurse wearing a cheeky smile.   
“I hope you don’t whistle at your patients’ arses, Nurse Busby!”  
“Only the hot ones,” Delia replied as she rocked back and forth on her feet. Then she turned and gestured toward the entrance.  
“You ready to go in?”  
The redhead took a deep breath and adjusted her bag. “As I’ll ever be.”  
As the two women took the lift up to general surgery, Delia noticed her girlfriend fidgeting a little with her Michael Kors watch.  
Patience Mount never fidgeted.   
“You aren’t nervous are you Pats?” she asked with a look of gentle concern.   
Patsy kept her eyes on the ground. “A little.”  
“What on earth for?” Delia laughed affectionately.  
“What if he doesn’t like me?” Patsy winced, embarrassed.   
Delia wrapped her arm around the taller woman’s torso and rubbed down her back.  
“Pats,” she smiled, “He’s six, he’s gonna like you no matter what!” she chuckled. 

By now the women were walking down the hall towards Douglas’s room, and Patsy felt a little more at ease. Right as they reached Douglas’s door, Delia held her arm out to stop Patsy. The nurse peeked her head in the room.  
“PSSSST Heeey...soldier…” Delia whispered obnoxiously loud. An infectious giggle leaked out of the room in return.   
Patsy rolled her eyes but in truth, it made her heart full to see her girlfriend act like this.   
“I brought someone to meet you,” Delia whispered even louder.   
The little boy bounced on his bed excitedly, and Delia reached behind the door to grab Patsy’s arm and pulled her into the room.   
“This is Patsy!” she chimed. The redhead gave him a smile and a little wave.  
The boy lied back in and looked back down at his Legos, all the excitement disappearing.   
Delia just shook her head as she came closer, knowing that would be this shy, but Patsy hung back near the door. She watched as her girlfriend sat on the end of Douglas’s bed, tickling the bottom of his feet and trying to meet his eyes. The younger woman shifted a little.

“Hey you know what Patsy really likes? She likes boats, do you think you could show her your boat, huh?”  
The boy pushed back his long hair and stayed silent, but soon he reached behind his pillow and retrieved a small model boat. He held it out to Patsy but looked the other way.   
Delia nodded reassuringly at her girlfriend from the bed, and the redhead made her way over to a chair beside Douglas.   
“Wow,” she said as she took the model from the boy. She leaned in close to him and spun the ship around in her hand.   
“You see this part?” she asked him quietly as she pointed to a piece of the boat. “This is the mast. This keeps the sails up.”   
Douglas couldn’t fight his interest in the young woman or the boat, so he turned his head toward Patsy and placed his hand over hers on the mast.   
“What’s this part?” he asked sheepishly.   
“That’s the rudder, it’s how you turn the boat, like a car,” she replied. Patsy was so close to the hospital bed her knee was pressed up against it, and the boy used the knee to push himself up to see the boat better. She looked at the small hand on her leg and then up to Delia, like a deer in headlights. 

“Do you have a sailboat?” a little voice broke their contact.   
Patsy paused for a moment, her eyes focused on the model toy, and then replied.  
“I do. Not here in London, though. My sailboat is in Southampton, that’s where my father taught me how to sail.”  
Douglas let go of the redhead’s hand that he’d been holding to take the boat from her.  
“Are you good at it?” he asked casually.   
Patsy chuckled and looked back up, again meeting Delia’s eyes. She saw intrigue in them, and a little worry as well.   
“I’m alright,” she chuckled. “But my brother Elijah was really good. He used to win races all the time.”  
Douglas absorbed the information but his focus was quickly demanded by Octonauts, which was coming on the telly.   
“Oi, soldier,” Delia snapped in front of him, then looked at Patsy and shook her head.  
“The boy’s comatose when that show comes on.”  
The younger woman’s eyes were fixed on Douglas, and she smiled softly.   
Delia stood up and grabbed a hair band from the side table, scooping up the boy’s long, curly hair and tying it up.   
“Alright soldier, Nurse Val’s gonna come get you ready for bed. Me and Patsy are gonna go home, ok?”   
Douglas nodded, keeping his eyes on the telly as he hugged Delia, who put a kiss on his head before taking Patsy’s hand to lead her out.   
“I love you,” Douglas called out to the nurse before she left the room.   
Patsy put a fist to her mouth, “Be still my beating heart,” she whispered. 

  
The couple drove back to Delia’s house content in the silence. The older woman drove with her left hand and held her girlfriend’s in her right, running her thumb affectionately over the freckles on Patsy’s skin.   
“You know I’ve never seen him warm up to someone that quickly,” Delia looked over. “Trixie’s good to get four words out of him, and he’s known her for years.”  
Patsy sighed, “I think he feels more comfortable when you’re there.” She returned a fishhook smile to the driver, “You’re really good with him.”  
Delia smiled but her words came out sounding sad, “He’s my boy. Never loved anyone like I love him.”   
Patsy looked over in amazement- she’d never seen a love like that, Lord knows she’d never experienced one either. 

When they arrived home, Patsy took a seat at the table and pulled out her laptop to work on some research while Delia started dinner. The student peeked her eyes over the computer to scope out the supper, but was surprised to see her girlfriend waiting over only a small pot of water.  
“What are you making over there,” she asked intrigued.   
“Don’t worry Mount, just do your work and I’ll take care of it.”  
Patsy scoffed and returned to her paper. She didn’t notice Trixie walking in the kitchen behind her, but Delia turned just in time to meet the blonde’s gaze. She hadn’t seen her housemate since spending the night before with Patsy, and she knew that Trixie would never let a coital victory slide by.  
Delia shot Trixie a fiery look over the redhead’s shoulder, but the blonde was unphased. She smiled behind Patsy’s back, mouthing GO DELIA with both of her fists triumphantly in the air.   
Patsy lifted her eyes for a moment and noticed her girlfriend’s stern face, she followed the glance behind her--just in time to find Trixie looking for imaginary dirt under her fingernails. 

“So”, the blonde hummed nonchalantly, “What’s for dinner Deels?”  
“My specialty!” she announced, returning to the stove.   
Trixie started to massage Patsy’s shoulders as she hung her head, “Oh Lord no,” she groaned. Pats, you’re too good for this and I want you to know that.”  
“What’s your specialty?” the student asked intrigued, and a little alarmed.  
“Voila!” Delia set a pot down on the table and Patsy got her answer.  
“Here’s the secret,” the brunette clasped her hands proudly. “You take Kabuto chicken ramen, then you mix in a can of tuna, cover it in sriracha and cheese and there you have it!”  
Patsy hung her head over the pot. “It looks delicious,” she fawned and looked up to her girlfriend with a face of gratitude.   
Trixie shook her head and patted the redhead’s shoulder. “You don’t deserve her, Busby.” Then she pointed to the pot, “And that looks like sick.”  
Nevertheless, the blonde took a seat at the table.   
“Let me change out of my scrubs and I’ll be right back,” Delia kissed the top of Patsy’s head before she left. 

“We can throw it out and say we ate it,” Trixie suggested once her housemate had left the room.  
Patsy gave an understanding smile but shook her head, looking down at the table.   
“No woman has ever made me dinner. I don’t think any man has either--at least not one I haven’t paid or helped cook.”  
The blonde nurse drew back, then placed her hand over Patsy’s and smiled, she always had a way of absorbing tragic things like that, with a smile.   
“Well then sweetie...we better tuck in!” She took a plate and passed it to the other woman before setting out one for herself and Delia. 

By the time the brunette nurse returned, her two girls were deep into conversation, and both seemed equally amused by one another.   
“I swear Trixie! You’ve never seen anything like it, millionaire bachelors--all under 40 and all somewhat attractive.”  
“Where have you been all my life!” Trixie bowed toward the redhead.   
“What are you two getting into?” Delia smirked from the doorway.   
Trixie straightened up, “Patience here will be taking me to the Westminster Young Business Leader conference in a fortnight.”  
“Oh, really? For your remarkable business savvy, I’m sure.”  
“Of course,” the blonde nodded seriously.   
Delia rolled her eyes on her way to the table. “Well, I’m sure you’ll both enjoy yourselves.”

After dinner, Patsy insisted on doing the washing up, leaving Delia to finish her tea and enjoy the view of the tall woman’s backside as she leaned down to load the dishwasher.   
“You have anything to do tonight?” the brunette hummed from behind her mug.  
“Um, no, don't think so. I finished what I could do with my research today and...but that’s all frightfully boring.”  
“No,” the brunette stopped her, “Tell me about it.”  
Patsy paused and gave her girlfriend an apprehensive look. But Delia returned it with a ready stare, waiting for the student to begin speaking.   
Patsy spent the next hour regaling her with the details of the upcoming research essay. Finishing her story with an exciting end. “And no one’s ever written about this before-or researched it, really!” Then she leaned back a little in her chair, realizing she had let her nerdy side show a little more than she would’ve liked.   
But the brunette beside her only giggled and took the last sip of her tea.  
“That’s wonderful Pats, you’re gonna be smashing at it!”  
The redhead looked down, taking the compliment bashfully. She didn’t receive praise well. She hadn’t received it at all as a child, and she couldn’t think of a single compliment she had received in who knows how long. At least not from anyone that mattered or really cared.   
Patsy looked at her watch and sighed. “Well, I best be getting home. Thank you for the wonderful dinner, I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”   
She bent down where Delia was sitting, placing a lovingly slow kiss just above the woman’s eyebrow.   
“But if…” the brunette started.   
“Huh?” Patsy returned, hovering now, right above Delia’s skin.  
“If you wanted to stay here tonight? I mean I know Trixie won’t mind, and I’d love for you to be here…”   
The younger woman couldn’t fight the crooked smile that crept across her face, so she didn’t even try.   
“I’d love to Deels.” 


	14. chapter 14

Patsy and Delia had quite the time getting ready for bed that night. While Delia tried to pull down the duvet, Patsy threw pillows from the bed at her girlfriend one after the other. 

Delia acted unphased, catching each one and tossing it in the corner. But finally, a particularly fluffy one met her straight in the phase, and she heard a guttural laugh come from her girlfriend.

“Why do you have 200 of these blasted things?” the younger woman remarked. 

“Because they’re comfy and decorative,” Delia chided. She retrieved a few from the floor and placed them back on the bed. 

“I could argue against both…” Patsy mumbled and lied out on the bed---spreading out like a starfish. 

Delia took a step out of Patsy’s view and smirked. Then, she reared back and took a flying leap onto the bed, crashing down across the taller woman’s stomach.

“Ugghh!” Patsy coughed, trying to roll out from underneath the brunette. But Delia just giggled as she straightened up, now straddling the redhead’s waist. Patsy tried to lift her hips from the bed and shove off Delia, but the other woman squeezed down even tighter. 

“Damn paddle-boarding legs!” the taller woman sighed as she surrendered back onto the duvet. 

The smaller laughed with satisfaction at herself but decided to reconcile her victory. She leaned over and met her girlfriend’s lips, kissing through her smile, running her hands slowly through Patsy’s hair. 

“Alllrighht,” a voice came from the doorway. 

Patsy raised up as much she could with Delia’s weight still on her torso. Her face flushed bright pink when she met eyes with Trixie. 

“An extra blanket-” Trixie said blankly, her eyes wandering around the ceiling as she held it out. 

Delia rolled off the bed clumsily and went toward the door. She pouted her lips like a toddler at Trixie when the blonde gave her a cold stare. 

“We won’t do anything you wouldn’t do,” Delia winked as she took the blanket. 

“That’s what I’m worried about.” 

Delia closed the door behind her housemate and turned back around sharply, giving her girlfriend low and predatory eyes. Patsy shook her head, her face saying,  _ Don’t you dare _ , but it was too late. 

The brunette took a running jump from across the room and once again came crashing down onto the taller woman, who gave another strained grunt. The two women wrestled on the bed for a bit before settling exhausted under the duvet, but now they couldn’t fight the giggles that had somehow gotten ahold of them. Suddenly, as it often happens at night, everything was funny, and  _ nothing _ was funnier than trying to be silent. They’d managed to be quiet an entire half-hour before Patsy decided to turn onto her left side, not realizing she would be face-to-face with Delia, who at this point still had her eyes wide open. And with that unexpected eye-contact, they were gone---holding on to one another as laughter poured out of them. 

“Mhhhhmmm,” a loud throat-clearing could be heard from the wall behind them. 

“Sorry Trixie,” Patsy called out, taking deep breaths to end her laughter.

“Hey, Pats..” Delia whispered her tone now serious. “I’m gonna ask you something and feel free to say no.”

Patsy furrowed her brow a little but nodded. 

“So I’ve been thinking about Christmas… And I’ve decided to go back to Wales and visit my family. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come with me... and meet them?”

The younger woman opened her mouth as if to speak, but only inhaled. 

“Do you think that’s alright?” she questioned.

“Of course,” Delia laughed. “I’ve told my parents about you--my mam’s apprehensive of course, but my tad’s over the moon. And my brother’s are already giving me a hard time. But they’d all love to meet you.” 

“Oh.. well I suppose if they’re okay with me coming…I...I don’t know, I’ll think about it.”

The smaller woman placed a little kiss on her forehead, “Well, they’ll absolutely love it if you do.” 

Patsy was still a bit shocked, not sure how to process the idea of a family she didn’t know wanting to spend their Christmas with her.

Whatever kind of love this was, it was the kind of love she’d only seen on  _ It’s A Wonderful Life-- _ which she typically watched on telly Christmas night, sitting amongst a few presents mailed from her father in Chelsea. She never liked to make a turkey on the holiday, considering that there was always far too much leftover, so she usually made a Christmas curry. Elijah would always come home from Cambridge to spend Christmas day with his sister, but after curry-for-two and exchanging gifts with one another, he usually had to catch a train back to the university. His side-job as an editor always demanded him back by the 26th---which Patsy learned not to mind. She would sink into the sofa with a tin of Christmas biscuits and put on a film, usually something achingly-Christmasy (it made up for the lack-thereof in everything else). Other than that there was no tree, no lights either; she had tried it once, but taking them down alone on New Year’s Eve ruined her taste for them. 

But things were different at Ellie’s house--Patsy never accepted the invitation to join her family on Christmas day--but all of December that house was packed with lights, decorations, and a tree that nearly scraped the ceiling. Ellie tried to make Christmas biscuits every day of December (they never came out right) but Paige always had something delicious coming out of the oven to remedy the damage. And at night, Ellie, her parents, and Patsy would sit next to one another on the giant sofa in front of a big brick fireplace, listening to Christmas music playing warmly from the turntable. Thinking back on it, those were the happiest days of Patsy’s life: waking up at 2 am to Archibald (the Border Collie) nuzzling his head under her hand, feeling the rise and fall of Ellie’s stomach as she slept under her on the sofa, seeing Paige walk sleepily past to collect the empty hot-chocolate mugs. But that life was gone now, and there was no shot in getting those December nights back. It was time to find another family to belong to, but “family” and “belonging” weren’t strong words in Patience Mount’s vocabulary. At least they hadn’t been in a long while. 

“Can I ask you something else?” another whisper cut through the dark.

“Yes.”

“You were telling Douglas about those boats tonight. Is that…” 

“True? It is. My great-grandfather started sailing for the sake of being a ‘true gentleman’, but my father always loved it for the precision, keeping each piece and part operating _ precisely _ as it should. Elijah was the fastest, he loved it for the adrenaline--pushing the boat to its limit.”

“And you?” Delia blinked. 

“An excuse to be out on the sea. My father never scolded my technique, didn’t care enough I suppose, so whenever I sailed with him there was mostly silence--which I didn't mind, of course. With Elijah, I spent most of the time battling the surf and loved that as well. The boats are still in Southampton but I haven’t visited since my father’s death.”

Delia nodded understandably and ran the back of her hand gently down Patsy’s cheek. 

“So you’re a skipper as well? Patience, you really are a dark horse.”

When Patsy woke up the next morning she found Delia gone. It was all a bit odd to her, for her entire life  _ she _ had been the early bird. And during her time at Greenwich, she was typically the one to sneak out of bed for a shower and leave the woman from the night before to snooze. 

Last night she’d slept in a sports bra, but threw an old Cambridge jumper on top of it, then grabbed a pair of tortoise-shell glasses from her satchel and pulled her sleek auburn hair into a bun. Patsy followed the rattling sound of pots and pans down the hall and into the kitchen, where she found Delia already in her scrubs--her deep brunette hair falling down her back as she stirred something on the stove. 

“I exhausted my cooking skills last night, so you get porridge this morning,” she said as she stirred the breakfast. 

She laid down the spoon and turned to greet Patsy.

“Oh  _ Lord,”  _ Delia exhaled. Her knees bent a little and she grabbed the edge of the stove for support. 

“What?” Patsy stopped in her tracks with genuine concern. 

“The glasses,” she managed to get out, “I go weak in the knees for a woman in glasses…”

“Oh,” the student replied, pushing the glasses up the bridge of her nose with satisfaction. “I’ll have to wear these more often then.”

Delia sighed as she turned back to the stove.

“I’ve been thinking…” Patsy started as she leaned against a kitchen chair. 

“Uh-huh?”

“I want to come with you, to Wales, for Christmas.”

“Yeah?” the brunette turned around, a smile spreading across her face. 

“Yeah.”

“Oh Pats,” Delia walked towards the taller woman, her long hair swaying against her shoulder. She placed her hands on Patsy’s waist, far above her own, and looked up to meet the redhead’s eyes. 

“You’ve really gotten yourself in deep now.”

“Good morning,” Trixie said matter-of-factly as she sauntered into the kitchen wearing her silk pajamas. 

“Good morning,” the other women responded brightly. 

The blonde made immediately toward the cabinet to take out a mug and then a packet of instant coffee. Patsy reminded herself that she loved Trixie even though she drank that stuff. 

“Did Phyllis tell you about Douglas’s parents, Delia?” Trixie asked as she popped on the kettle. 

“Parents? What? No.” Delia stopped stirring. 

“She was meant to...they’re trying to surrender custody to his aunt. See, daddy’s got a massive business proposition in Stockholm, but they would have to be in England to make Douglas’s medical decisions...”

“...They’re signing him away so they can run off to Sweden?”

“The bastards.” Patsy’s voice raised in anger from the other side of the room.

“Exactly.” Trixie finished. “But his aunt wants nothing to do with him either, she’s living in Birmingham with three kids herself.”

“Oh my gosh,” Delia sank and began rubbing her temple. 

“I’m sorry Delia,” Trixie shook her head, “I know this must be absolutely ghastly for you.”

“It’s a hundred times worse for him.” Delia fought back tears as she attempted to keep stirring. 

Patsy moved over to Delia. She picked a bowl from the countertop, filled it with porridge, and handed it to her. The brunette took it as Patsy rubbed circles on her back, and the three women stood and ate, silent. 

Delia dropped Patsy off at her flat on the way to hospital since she had mentioned wanting to grab her car before going to class. In reality, Patsy wanted to get the Jaguar in order to pay a visit to someone she hadn’t seen in a while. The nurse gave her a cordial “goodbye” as she climbed out, but Patsy knew that her mind was solely fixed on getting to St. Thomas and drilling Phyllis for more information on Douglas’s parents. Patsy braced herself--it was going to be a rough time for Delia. From what she’d experienced, that big-hearted woman felt every hurt Douglas went through, sometimes even more than he did. 

Patsy pulled next to the Cutty Sark precisely at opening time, she had already taken the time to dress properly in a business-professional outfit sharp enough to kill. So when she walked into the pub and found Christopher standing at the bar--he knew what was coming to him. 

“Patsy. Alright, about the other night…” 

“...Amaretto coffee and a poached egg on brioche,” she interrupted, passing him her coat, “I’ll talk to you when I have food.”

He half-smiled and took the Valentino coat. “Yes ma'am,” he said. She would forgive him, he knew that much, she had a hundred times before. But he’d always have to earn it. 

A few minutes later he returned with the breakfast, looking around to make sure no customers had arrived while he was gone before he joined Patsy at a table. 

“Why the hell did you point out every woman I’ve ever slept with to my girlfriend? Do you know how sleezy it looks that I’ve bedded half the history students at Greenwich?”

“I’m sorry Patsy, I am,” Christopher sighed. “I was pretty drunk, and I think I was honestly afraid Jenny Lea would find out that Delia was with you and then tell her everything. And trust me, Jenny would scrounge up a lot more dirt on you than I did.”

Patsy exhaled, accepting that her friend probably had a point.

“Well, you didn’t have to do it in _that_ way, exactly. Delia was furious at first, understandably, and I still don’t think she really trusts me.”

“Did you tell her about Ellie?”

“Yes. Well, I told her what I could without scaring her away. But honestly, I think that just confused her all the more…”

“Again, understandably…” Christopher winced. 

Patsy threw up her hands in surrender. “Well I don’t know how to do this, do I, Christopher! I’ve spent the last twenty years learning how to  _ never _ share myself with anyone. And now that I’m supposed to, it all just keeps coming out in broken fragments.”

Christopher played with the handle of Patsy’s mug. “Then if Delia is worth her salt, she’ll stick with you until she’s collected all those fragments and made sense of them.” 

“And I hope to God she does,” the young woman sighed. 

  
  


After breakfast, Patsy truly enjoyed her day, though she felt guilty for it, considering what Delia would be facing with Douglas today. Dr. Smith and Patsy spent most of the day in the archives, plowing through research and taking notes on what would no doubt be the shining research essay of the year. 

“Alrighhht,” Dr. Smith playfully relinquished as Patsy was packing up her things. “You can go to Wales for Christmas, but I expect you back here first thing on January 1st. We’ve got something promising here, this could mean a lot for you.”

The woman smiled humbly and pulled the strap of her satchel up to her shoulder. A year ago, the words coming from her professor’s mouth would be the best thing she could imagine hearing. But now, her mind was curiously occupied with gift ideas for Delia’s niece and nephews. Patience Mount had lost herself. 

She was smiling at that as she climbed up the stairs to the first floor of the building, but her face went blank when she spotted a gorgeous, brown-eyed menace lingering at the top. The redhead looked for a way out but found no options. 

“Patsy!” Jenny Lea announced with infuriating sentiment.

“Pleasure to see you, Miss Lea!” Patsy returned politely. 

Patsy topped the stairs headed for the door with her eyes locked forward, which Jenny noticed, but followed her anyways. 

“I’m looking forward to seeing you at the Christmas ball, Patience, you’ve always been the most... stunning attendee.”

Patsy knew she couldn’t escape from this conversation so she obliged it if only to get it over with as fast as possible, so she turned back and offered a cordial smile. Jenny took the opportunity and stepped in, facing Patsy so closely that her right arm brushed against the redhead’s left. 

“Calvin won’t be able to make it, maybe  _ you’d _ like to accompany me instead. We can get away afterward and...catch up. Perhaps it will end up the same as  _ last  _ year’s ball.”

Patsy had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud. This year would be  _ nothing  _ like the last. 

“I’m terribly sorry Jenny Lea, but it just-so-happens that I won’t make it to the ball this year. My girlfriend and I are spending Christmas with her family... in Wales.”

And with that, Jenny immediately retreated, keeping her eyes on the ground. 

“Oh. Well, that’s a shame. I hope the two of you enjoy yourselves…”

Patsy gave a perky nod and pushed open the door. 

Delia walked hastily down the corridor behind Phyllis; she was being belligerent, to say the least. 

“I don’t know any more than that, kid, I wish I did.”

“But do they have the authority to just up and move him across the country? He’s not strong enough for that, he needs to be around people he trusts.”

“I know that kid,” Nurse Crane’s northern lit reverberated down the corridor, “But you are not his mother and neither am I. I’m afraid we have to leave the decisions to his parents.”

Delia threw up her hands. “Is no one gonna fight for him?!” she asked a bit too angrily.

Nurse Crane paused and turned around to face Delia, who halted in place, preparing for rebuke.

“Don’t you doubt for  one moment that I won’t fight for him,” Phyllis replied harshly but coolly. “But we have to accept our limits, Nurse Busby.”

Delia nodded gratefully. She’d always received better than she deserved from Phyllis, and she was truly grateful for the wisdom that the stern nurse had a way of comforting her with. 

“I love him, Nurse Crane... more than I ever expected to,” the nurse admitted without making eye contact. She was a little embarrassed to say it, and glanced from side to side.

“I know you do,” the older woman sighed. “And I see that it hurts you.”

The two stood for a second in the silence. Delia turned on her heels to leave but was stopped by Phyllis’s voice. 

“But if I may…” She started, her eyes and mouth softening. “The pain it costs, to love. I believe it is  _ always  _ worth it.”

Delia felt a hot tear streaming down her face, but smiled and nodded, to show her gratefulness.

“Now lass,” the older woman said kindly, “go on and finish your rounds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skipper Patsy Mount, if that's not a good mental image for your week, then I don't know what is.


End file.
